Log Rhythms
by DNash
Summary: Reed/Trip slash, usu. PG to PG-13 but CHAPTERS ARE INDIVIDUALLY RATED. Stories coincide with eps throughout season one.
1. Default Chapter

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** - These characters, for the most part, belong to Paramount Pictures/UPN/Viacom and whoever else has a stake in _Enterprise_ or any other permutation of the _Star Trek_ universe. Additionally, any dialogue borrowed from actual _Enterprise_ episodes has been added merely for verisimilitude. This is written just in fun and because I really enjoy the show(s). No copyright infringement is intended. 

**Violence** - Not particularly. I get enough of that writing XWP fanfic.

**Ratings** - Generally, expect a PG to PG-13 rating for language and what people so quaintly call "Adult Content." Specific ratings will be provided at the top of each log entry so you can decide for yourself whether you should be reading them.  
The **language** here rarely goes beyond what you can hear on prime time TV.  
The "**adult content**" centers around two men, so if you have a problem with that, stop reading and seek therapy--or at least a chocolate chip cookie, because it's sad, sad.

**Thank yous** - Many, many thanks to my fabulous beta readers, FiTanna and Jay, and also to my editrix extraordinaire, Idris. I couldn't do it without you all! Well, I suppose I could, but the product would undoubtedly suffer--and it wouldn't be nearly as much fun! :-)

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. You can email them to: dnash_nx01@yahoo.com  
If you want to flame me, please don't waste your time or mine. Remember, it was your choice to read on. ;-)

*****

**Log 1**  
(This takes place immediately following the events of the episode _Terra Nova_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

"Armory Officer's Star Log: It's been anunusual day. Spending 12 plus hours underground with a bullet in one's leg isn't how I generally like to spend my Saturdays. Still, Dr. Phlox says I can resume light duties tomorrow, and the injection he gave me for the pain is working wonders. Computer, pause recording."

Lieutenant Reed winced his way from one end of his small quarters to the bed sitting so invitingly at the other. He sat, sighing heavily at the pressure taken off his injured leg. The random thought passed through his mind, _Too bad there's no one here to keep me company in this bed._ He shook his head at the idea, knowing full well that his position (if not his relatively accessible rank of lieutenant) on _Enterprise_ was as much a deterrent to connubial partnership as was his orientation.

"Where was I?" he muttered to no one. "Computer, resume recording." He considered for another brief moment before continuing his log entry. "I've reviewed Ensign Cormack's weapons' status report. Her recommendations regarding new phasic weapons bear some serious consideration. It would certainly be useful next time we run into a ship of those oh-so-charming Klingons." The last was said with his typical wry, British sarcasm. "I've set up a meeting with her for tomorrow at 0900 hours." _Should be interesting. She's a bright young officer, very smart. Too bad she's a she. _Aloud, he said more sharply than necessary, "Computer, pause recording."

"Get a hold of yourself, Reed," he ordered quietly, though his rebellious brain couldn't help sniping, _Haven't you done enough of that lately?_ "You're acting like a randy kid. You're an adult and an officer. You're in for a long tour, and you'll only make it longer by torturing yourself like this."

Usually, it was easy. If he ever got toofrustrated, he could throw himself into his work. Nothing beat blowing things up when you needed to release some tension. _Well,_ he amended, _almost nothing._ But injured as he was, Dr. Phlox had ordered him to rest for a day before easing back into his duties. On top of being shot, he'd gotten somewhat dehydrated while he was stuck in the Novan tunnels. Combine that with his body's adverse reaction to the digger meat he'd eaten, and his homecoming had been less than joyous. Still, he was feeling better now, and with recovery came the need for something to do. So, here he was with most of Sunday to kill and nothing with which to kill it. 

The computer chimed a reminder, startling him from his reverie. "Oh, right," he said. "Computer, end log entry." The computer chimed once again as it complied with his command.

Wearily, Reed lay back on his bed, noting happily that the painkiller seemed to have taken complete effect; his leg had ceased hurting at last. He yawned widely as disparate desires traded places within him. He wanted to get up and do something, anything (even if it was just take a cold shower), but another part of him was positively bone-tired. Not normally given to mid-day naps, he wondered if the good doctor hadn't also added a sleeping drug to the painkilling injection. He pulled himself upright, planning to go over some old technical journals, but exhaustion won out in the end. He lay back down and pulled the blanket over himself.

"Computer," he said before sleep claimed him, "wake me at 1345 hours."

*****

_Strong but surprisingly gentle hands were massaging his neck and shoulders. He sighed contentedly, letting the skilled hands work the warm, scented oil into his sore muscles._

He gave a muffled moan of pleasure. "That's wonderful," he said. "Where on Earth did you learn to give massages like that?"

"My talents aren't limited to the engine room, Malcolm," Trip whispered teasingly into his ear. "I thought you knew that by now."

Malcolm rolled over onto his back and looked up at the handsome, muscular engineer. "Why don't you show me just what those talents are?" he asked, smiling rakishly.

"Oh, I'd be happy to." Trip leaned down over him, and Malcolm could smell the mint of his breath as he arched up to receive the approaching kiss

The soft chirrup of the alarm was usually enough to wake him without trouble. Not this time. Slowly, Reed forced tired eyes to open and focus on the nearby chronometer.

"Damn!" he swore, throwing back the blanket and sitting up a little too quickly. He sucked air in through his teeth at the sudden stab of pain in his leg. "Damn!" he said again. "Computer, alarm off!" The noise abruptly ceased. He looked again at the bedside chronometer. He wasn't mistaken; the alarm had been chiming for ten minutes before he'd heard it. He was due in sickbay for physical therapy at 1400—only five minutes from now. He hated being late. He ran a hand through his unruly "bed head" and jammed on his boots, gritting his teeth at the increased throbbing in his only recently treated wound. Muttering a few more brief obscenities, he headed out of his cabin and toward sickbay.

As it turned out, he was only three minutes late for his appointment. The affable Dr. Phlox wasn't in the least perturbed by his tardy arrival.

"Ah, Lieutenant," the Denobulan said pleasantly. "Did you sleep well?"

"So you did put a sedative in that injection," Reed accused.

"No. Not at all. It's not my policy to administer any drugs without the knowledge of the patient." He smiled his quirky, alien smile. "I just deduced from your somewhat disheveled appearance and uncharacteristically late arrival that you'd been sleeping."

Reed looked down at his wrinkled cover-alls and ran a hand once more through his dark brown hair. He gave Phlox a somewhat abashed look and shrugged. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"No need to apologize. Now, if you'd just strip down to your blues and lie down, I'll take a look at that wound before we start your physical therapy."

_Too bad it's Phlox and not Trip saying that,_ Reed's rebellious mind complained. He dropped the boot he'd just removed, shocked at his own thoughts.

"Lieutenant?" Phlox asked solicitously.

"I'm fine. Justslipped," he added, indicating the fallen boot. _Where the hell did that thought come from?_ he wondered. Then he remembered. He'd been dreaming when his alarm went off, and oh what he'd been dreaming about. _Focus, Malcolm,_ he ordered himself. _You have no evidence whatsoever that he's in any way tilted your way. Let it go._ The last thing he needed was for his mind to lead him where his body would undoubtedly want to follow when he was wearing nothing but his undergarments in a room with a witnessa witness with a doctor's natural curiosity about all things physiological.

Blocking out all internal distractions, the Armory Officer finished disrobing down to the regulation skivvies everyone referred to simply as "blues," and laid back on the diagnostic bed.

*****

All in all, he considered he'd gotten through it relatively well. He'd only caught his mind wandering once and stopped it before it could go so far as to be visible to any observer. Seeing as Dr. Phlox had been observing just about everything, he counted himself lucky. _As long as that medical scanner didn't pick up anything,_ the thought suddenly occurred to him. But if it had, Phlox hadn't mentioned it, and Reed had little doubt the alien doctor would comment on any interesting new thing that caught his attention.

He was lost in thought as he approached the lift that would take him back to B-deck, and so might be forgiven for running smack into Commander Tucker when the lift doors opened. 

"Whoa!" Trip put a steadying hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "You okay?"

"What? Yes. Thanks," Reed said, somewhat flustered. "Sorry. Were you getting out?"

"Nope." He stepped farther back into the lift, allowing Reed to enter. The lieutenant tapped a panel and requested the deck he wanted. "Surprised to see you up and around," Trip said amiably as the lift resumed its course.

"I just came from sickbay. Physical therapy. I'm not back on duty until tomorrow."

"Well, I'm glad you're doing better. We were all worried about you while you were stuck down in those tunnels."

Reed glanced sideways at Tucker, but the engineer was staring ahead at the lift doors. _Damnable "lift etiquette,"_ he thought, wishing he could make eye contact with the man beside him, maybe glean a little more information out of his expression.

The lift slowed and halted. Trip gave Reed an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Get better," he said. "See you around." The lift doors opened, then closed behind the commander, leaving Reed alone to finish the quick trip back to B-deck.

He was cursing internally when he finally escaped into the solitude of his quarters. "Computer, lock the door." He sat on the edge of his bed. "What a stunning conversationalist you've become," he berated himself quietly. "The man's your co-worker, maybe even a friend. Don't screw it up now by acting like an idiot."

He moved over to his small desk, determined to get on with this interminable day. _You've been complaining you didn't have any time to catch up on your technical journals, _he reminded himself. _Might as well take advantage of the time off._

But it wouldn't work. When he realized he'd read the same paragraph on hull-plating polarization for the fifth time, he gave it up for lost. If the doctor hadn't specifically told him to take it easy on his leg, he'd have hit the gym for a workout—the third best way he knew of relieving tension. 

"Give it up, Malcolm," he muttered. "It's never going to happen." _But there's no harm in letting your imagination wander,_ his libido added. _So, let it wander, and maybe you'll get it out of your system._ He considered this option very carefully before deciding.

"Time for a cold showeragain."

It wasn't the first time he'd found himself resorting to this option—undoubtedly his _least_ favorite way to relieve tension. He only wished he was high enough in the command structure to rate a shower in his quarters. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option on a ship like _Enterprise_. Sure, it was the largest starship Starfleet had ever commissioned, but it was still somewhat cramped. He was lucky his position as an Alpha shift bridge officer allowed him his own quarters with a small, en suite lav. But he had to make do with the communal crew shower room.

Every deck that held crew quarters was divided into several sections. There was one shower room for every two sections, and he wasn't far from his. Grabbing a robe and towel, he headed down the corridor towards it. Arriving, he was pleased, though not surprised, to find it empty; at this hour most everyone was either heading on duty for Beta shift or heading to the crew mess for dinner.

He chose a shower cubicle some distance from the door and stepped in. He stripped quickly, folding his kit on the bench, and hung the towel over the shoulder-high, frosted plexiglas door. Reed took the one step down into the shower itself, punched in the temperature he wanted, and hit the jet. Even knowing what was coming, he gasped as the cold water hit him from head to toe, and all points between. It didn't take long under the relentless pounding for the throbbing pressure in his groin to ease as all thoughts of romance were driven from his rapidly numbing mind and body.

He sighed as the water streamed down over his face, and he leaned his forehead against the cold wall. He really hated having to do this. Aside from the obvious unpleasantness of having your privates shrunken by icy water, it was positively humiliating. _Pathetic, _he told himself. Slowly, he pushed away from the wall. Shoving the wet hair from his eyes with both hands, he squinted through the deluge at the shower's control panel. He raised the temperature a few degrees and relaxed as his body reacted to the increased warmth.

When his teeth stopped chattering, he could hear more of the general noise of the ship and _Another shower running._ He wondered how long it had been going and who it might beand promptly lowered the water temperature once more. 

Satisfied that his desires had been quite thoroughly squashed for the time being, he shut off the shower and began toweling himself off. Sufficiently dry, he wrapped his robe about him and secured it tightly before gathering up his clothes and stepping out of the shower unit.

"Hey, Malcolm!" came from off to his left. He spun round to see Ensign Travis Mayweather's friendly visage over a shower door.

"Hello, Travis," Reed answered, suppressing a wave of relief. He liked the young helmsman, but he fortunately didn't stir anything deeper in him than basic friendship. "What're you doing here?"

"Just caught a quick workout. Figured I'd better clean up before dinner or I'd get kicked out of the mess hall for smelling worse than the food." He grinned at his own joke, and Reed had to join him. In truth, the food on _Enterprise_ wasn't at all bad, but it was a tradition carried down from the earliest sea-faring vessels to complain about it.

"You're going to use up your water ration if you let it run like that," Reed said, tipping his head toward the steaming shower.

"I know, but it's a habit I can't seem to break." The handsome young ensign shrugged. He continued to undress as they talked. "Growing up on my dad's ship you had to wait for the hot water to get through the pipes to the showerhead. Even now, I can't stand under one and turn it on, trusting it to be warm from the get go."

"Give it time," Reed said. "You'll get used to it eventually."

"We'll see. Hey, how you doing, anyway?"

"Fine, thanks. Dr. Phlox is very good at his job."

"He didn't use that eel on you, did he?" Mayweather asked apprehensively.

"No," answered Reed with equal trepidation. "I heard about the treatment he used on Captain Archer, and I'm happy to say I managed to avoid it."

"That's good. Well, my water's hot." He grinned again, acknowledging the absurdity of his own little fetish. "I'll catch you later."

"Right." Reed tossed his wet towel in the nearby laundry chute and returned to his quarters to dress for dinner.

*****

"Hey, Malcolm, wait up!"

The Armory Officer stopped at the sound of Trip's voice. _Play it cool, Reed,_ he warned himself. "Why, Trip? Can't you catch up with a fellow with a gimpy leg on your own?"

"Sure," the commander answered genially. "Just thought you'd appreciate the turn-about of waiting for someone else to catch up to _you_ for a change. Join me for dinner?" he continued, overtaking the waiting Reed.

Malcolm's heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to remain calm. This was a friend asking a friend to join him in the mess hall for a meal. Nothing more.

"Aren't you dining with the Captain tonight?"

"Nope. Even us command-types have to slum it sometimes," he joked.

"Well, I'm so flattered you've chosen me with whom to slum," Reed answered wryly, enjoying the friendly banter. 

Tucker laughed out loud. "Come on."

*****

By the time they'd loaded up their plates and sat down, the two officers were chatting and laughing comfortably.

"So how's that leg?" Trip asked around a bite of beef stroganoff. "I noticed you're barely limping already."

"Well, part of that's the painkillers Dr. Phlox gave me, but I'm definitely feeling a lot better than I did yesterday."

"I bet. Dr. Phlox really knows what he's doing."

"Yes," Reed agreed. He took a sip of water, wanting to ask something but not sure how it would be taken. Still, the opening was there But surprisingly, Trip brought up the topic himself.

"I know when I was" There was a slight hesitation. "pregnant, he was really good to me. I mean, I was pretty shook up, you know?" 

"I can only imagine." 

Tucker looked up at him from where he leaned over his plate. "Be glad you can only imagine," he said. Then he laughed suddenly, easing the slight tension his admission had built. "You should've seen the look on Dillard's face when I chewed him out about the safety of the open lifts in engineering."

"Why did you do that?" Reed wanted to know.

"Why? Because my hormones were spiking higher than a surge in the warp engines!" The two laughed. "I don't know what Dillard thought, although I'm sure he eventually figured it out, what with the entire crew finding out about the baby and all. So much for secrets on board a ship like this. Sooner or later, there just aren't any left."

Reed continued to laugh with Tucker, but his laughter was just a bit forced. _I hope you're wrong about that._

*****

End Log 1  
_(Completed 31 Oct 01)_

Continued in Log 2


	2. Log 2

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 2:** (This takes place during and immediately following the events of the episode _The Andorian Incident_.)  
_Rating [R]_

*****

The fact that Hoshi was right didn't help; Reed knew he was overreacting. He didn't need it pointed out to him. All right, so maybe expecting the landing party to check in every ten minutes would be pushing itbut it had been over thirty. The ship's Captain, Science Officer, and Chief Engineer were on an alien planet with a bunch of Vulcans and an unknown number of unidentified "visitors." 

"Ensign Sato, hail the Captain," he ordered.

The voice that responded to the hail only increased his sense of unease. And the brief conversation that followed confirmed his worst suspicions. 

"or make any attempt to approach the surface," the unfamiliar voice continued, "and I'll kill the hostages."

He thought he heard Captain Archer cry out something. Then the connection went dead.

"I've lost the signal," said Hoshi.

"Try T'Pol" Reed fought hard to keep his voice calm. "or Commander Tucker."

When there was no response to repeated hails, he made his decision. "Have Launch Bay put Shuttlepod Two on standby." There was no way these Andorians were going to kill any member of _Enterprise_'s crew—and certainly not its blue-eyed Chief Engineer—as long as he had anything to say about it. Captain Archer had gotten him out of the Novan tunnels; even were it not his job, he intended to repay that debt. He found he wasn't as worried about T'Pol simply because she was Vulcan. By nature, she was less volatile than the rest of the landing party; it seemed logical to assume she was less likely to draw attention to herself in a Vulcan sanctuary. In any case, he'd been itching for some action. If he couldn't get the kind he really wanted, a good, old fashioned firefight was fine with him.

*****

He hated waiting. Night had fallen over the sanctuary of P'Jem, and there'd been no further word from the landing party. T'Pol was right, although he had no idea she'd said it; he wasn't reckless. But the waiting was starting to get to him. The worst part was not knowing what was going on. Was the landing party all right? Was Trip all right? He pushed the thought away, pacing the two and a half steps back and forth in front of the captain's chair until Mayweather spoke.

"Sir, you're wearing a hole in the deckplating."

The young ensign was obviously tense, and Reed's constant pacing wasn't helping. He stopped just as the comm system beeped.

"What is it?"

He nearly bit his tongue to keep back the cry of relief when Trip's voice came through the static. "_Enterprise_, this is Commander Tucker. Repeat: _Enterprise_, this is Commander Tucker."

Through the brief exchange that followed, Reed fought to keep his feeling of rising panic from entering his voice. "Andorians, yes. I've been reading about them in the Vulcan database," he said, stammering slightly. _Damn it, Reed!_ he snapped at himself. _Pull it together!_ "Militaristic, blue-skinned"

"That's them," came Trip's voice from the planet.

"Well, what do they want?"

There was a sinking feeling in Reed's stomach as Trip relayed the information on the Andorians and their hostages. At word of their abuse of Captain Archer, his fists clenched in gut reaction. _I've got to get them out of there!_ he thought angrily.

He wanted to act, but his hands were tied. The Captain's orders were to "sit tight," so that's what they were going to have to do. Incapable of actually sitting still at this point, Reed resumed his pacing. He was too distracted by his own thoughts to notice the look shared between his helmsman and Communications Officer.

*****

__

At last! he thought. He'd been idle too long. He hadn't signed on to Starfleet just to sit around cooling his heels when others were in danger—especially not when those others included his Captain, not to mention the man he'd been attracted to from the first moment they'd met. He allowed himself just a split second to think back to that meeting, to Trip's easy smile and firm handshake. He'd known instantly that those were lips and hands he wanted to get to know better. Shoving the memory aside, he ordered his team to set their phase-pistols to stun. It didn't please the crewmen any more than it pleased him, but he wasn't about to go against the Captain's orders when lives were at stake.

He stepped up onto the transporter pad. "Crewman?" He looked inquiringly at the hesitant man in question.

"We've, uhheard stories, sir. It might not be safe."

"I've heard the same stories." _And if it weren't my crew down there, there's no way in hell you'd catch me using this thing,_ he added to himself. "Now get up here." He stepped aside as the crewman joined him and another crewman on the pad. Reed looked at Sato. "Coordinates set?"

"Aye, sir," said Hoshi from the control console.

"Then energize" He gave the machine in which they stood a dubious look. "before we change our minds." 

Having his molecules scrambled and resequenced was a sensation Reed didn't care to relive anytime soon. The important thing, however, was that he had lived through it, and he had a job to do. He barely had time to register the presence of the landing party before he and his team were scrambling into a tunnel behind the wall.

*****

It was over quickly, and by the end his own distrust of Vulcans (and T'Pol in particular) had grown nearly as great as Commander Tucker's. In all fairness, there was no way of knowing if T'Pol was aware of the surveillance station before they'd discovered it hidden in the Vulcans' Reliquary—but there would always be doubt.

"No wonder it's such a private, holy place," he muttered to himself.

He glanced at his bedside chronometer, wondered if it had been long enough since their return from P'Jem to check on Trip without seeming like he was checking on Trip. It had been all he could do not to follow the commander to sickbay. Archer had been in worse shape than Trip, to look at them both, but Reed hadn't liked the fact that Trip seemed unable to focus on anything during their short flight back to _Enterprise_. In the end, he made the professional choice and stepped out of the way of the medical team as they took the injured officers and his tactical crewman away.

He put the finishing touches on his report for Captain Archer, then stood and stretched. Assuming Commander Tucker had been treated and immediately released from sickbay, he should be in his cabin by now. _Probably resting. You shouldn't disturb him,_ he told himself. He considered arguing, but he knew what the outcome would be before it began.

Six minutes later he was outside Trip's quarters. He rang the door chime. There was no answer. He was considering ringing again when Dillard happened by.

"Are you looking for Commander Tucker, sir?" the man asked.

"Yes. Ihad a question for him about the warp nacelles," Reed lied quickly, wishing he'd thought to come up with a convincing cover story before being caught flat-footed.

"He's still in sickbay. Maybe I could answer your question."

__

That would require thinking one up, so, no. "No. Thank you. It's nothing urgent. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Dillard said amiably and continued on to wherever he was headed.

__

Still in sickbay, Malcolm wondered. _That doesn't sound good._ He began walking roughly in the direction of his cabin, not really intending to go there, but feeling the need not to stand around in front of Trip's empty quarters looking like some love-struck idiot waiting for his sweetheart to come home. The moment he thought of a cover story, he changed direction.

If he wasn't so hung up on Trip, he'd have realized sooner what he should have done in the first place. He entered sickbay, spotted Dr. Phlox almost immediately.

"Doctor," he began, surreptitiously scanning the room for other occupants. "I thought I'd stop in and check on my crewman who was injured at P'Jem. Is he still here?"

"I've treated him and released him, Lieutenant," Phlox replied pleasantly, bustling about the room. "His injuries were minor. He'll be back on duty tomorrow."

"Excellent. Thanks." Reed hesitated just slightly before asking, "And the Captain and Commander Tucker?"

"The same goes for the Captain. I'm keeping Commander Tucker a little longer for some more tests."

Malcolm looked around again. "Then where is he?"

"In here." Phlox gestured to the medical scanner. "In fact, I was just about to open it up and let him out." So saying, he released the round door, and the diagnostic table slid out with Trip atop it—dressed only in his blues.

Malcolm clasped his hands in front of him to hide his reaction to the sudden sight. 

"I'm really starting to dislike this contraption," Trip said. He tried to sit up but was held down, gently but firmly, by Dr. Phlox's hand.

"Not so fast, Commander," the Denobulan said. He scanned the panels above the bed for several seconds.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, Doc. What's up?"

Trip hadn't seen Reed, and the lieutenant was glad. He was sure his expression held as much tension and concern as Tucker's voice did. He was clearly trying to play it cool, but Malcolm could hear the slight nuances of stress in the engineer's tones. They'd been on this mission together for less than ten weeks, and already he was fairly adept at reading the man's feelings through his voice and body language. Now, if he could just learn what he really needed to know

The doctor spoke, drawing him back to the matter at hand. "It's not as bad as I feared," he said.

"That's encouraging," answered Trip. "Can I sit up now?"

"Not just yet," said Phlox.

And not on my account, thought Malcolm, enjoying the profile view despite the seriousness of the situation. It was at that moment Trip turned his head and caught sight of the Armory Officer.

"Hey, Malcolm," Trip said, squinting slightly. "What're you doing here?"

"I just came by to check up on you all, only to discover you're the only one left. Don't tell me someone actually managed to do damage to that hard head of yours?" he joked.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," Dr. Phlox said. It was only then that Reed realized how close he was standing to the diagnostic bed.

"Sorry," he said, backing up to give the doctor more room. _I don't remember walking over here,_ he puzzled. _That's a bad sign. Admit it, Malcolm—you've got it bad._

Phlox was still speaking, and he focused on the words. "fairly severe concussion, which is what's causing your dizziness and nausea. Don't worry. It's easily treated. Just lie still while I get the necessary remedy. Won't take a moment." He bustled off to get the item in question.

This time, Reed consciously stepped forward to the bedside. "Looks like the swelling's gone down already," he said, looking down at Trip's eye. "You look much better than you did back in the shuttlepod." He wanted to reach out, soothe away the pain in Trip's face. He succeeded in quelling the impulse, then felt oddly disappointed by his success.

"Who'd've thought one hit would've done so much damage, huh?" Trip gave a wry half-smile with the uninjured side of his face.

"Depends what that Andorian hit you with."

"Back end of one of those phase-rifles, actually."

Reed winced. "Ouch."

"You're telling me."

"Here we are." Dr. Phlox returned then, medicine in hand. "Just what the doctor ordered." He smiled at the ages old quip he'd only recently learned.

"I'll get out of your way, then," Reed said, backing away from the bed once again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Trip. I'm glad you're feeling better," he added, giving the commander a good-bye nod. "Doctor."

"Get some rest, Lieutenant," the doctor said to his retreating form. "You're looking a bit worn out, yourself."

"I will. Thanks." He made his escape and headed quickly to his cabin. _That's not weariness, doctor, _he thought, stepping into a blessedly empty lift. _It's repressed sexual tension, and resting isn't going to make it go away._

Upon reaching his quarters, he immediately traded his uniform for workout gear and headed back out again. He figured twenty minutes beating up a punching bag would probably do the job nicely. A memory of Trip in his blues flashed through his mind. _Okay,_ he amended, _maybe thirty._

*****

"Wow, Lieutenant," said a female voice. "Did the bag do something to piss you off?"

Reed abruptly stopped punching and kicking, and used both hands to stop the shuddering of the heavy punching bag. He'd lost track of how long he'd been in the gym, but it was long enough that the tape around his hands and bare feet was showing the wear. He was covered in sweat, and his shirt and loose-fitting, drawstring pants clung to him with it. 

Having been caught completely unawares, he mustered as much self-possession as he could and looked at the person who'd spoken. "Ensign Cormack, hello," he said.

"Namaste," the blonde-haired ensign greeted him in return, giving a small bow. "We're off duty. You should just call me Stephanie," Cormack added with apparent ease. "Now, are you going to tell me what that poor bag did to call down your wrath so that I can avoid making the same mistake in the future?" She smiled, and Malcolm couldn't help but smile back. 

"Nothing, I'm afraid."

"Yikes," quipped the ensign. "Note to self, beware Lieutenant Reed's unpredictable temper."

Reed chuckled. "If I'm going to call you Stephanie, you should call me Malcolm," he said, surprising himself. He wasn't always comfortable talking to women, but he'd worked with Cormack long enough to dispel his initial awkwardness. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Yoga." She indicated the thin mat she carried under one arm. "I've never yet been on a ship where there was enough room to do it my quarters, so here I am."

"I'll leave you to it, then. I'm sure all my pummeling would be rather distracting."

"Don't let me run you out," Cormack said quickly. "I've done yoga in here when there was a lot more noise than you were making when I came in just now. Besides, I always have these." She pulled out a small pair of headphones from the depths of a pants-pocket. "But I'm pretty good at blocking out extraneous sounds."

"It's all right. I should really go," Reed said. "Give this punching bag a chance to recover from its injuries." It was a lame joke and he knew it, but he wasn't trying to impress Cormack. Better to get the pointless chatter out of his system with her than have it come babbling out next time he saw Trip. He started to go.

"I have some thoughts about improving the accuracy of the ship's targeting scanners," Cormack blurted out. "Maybe I could discuss them with you tomorrow?"

He glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Certainly. I appreciated your input the other week on the phasic weapons. I'd like to hear your newest ideas. Are you free tomorrow at 1630 hours?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Off duty, remember?" 

"RightMalcolm."

He gave her another friendly smile. "See you then, Stephanie." He picked up the towel he'd left on the nearby bench, mopped some of the sweat from his face and neck. He left the gym then, and so missed seeing the elated smile that spread across Cormack's face. 

*****

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, personal log: I'm still getting nowhere with Trip. I know I could go into the crew manifests and probably learn something useful, but it just feels soinvasive, not to mention cowardly." Reed paused, thinking. "On the bright side, if things continue the way they are now, I'm going to be fitter than I've ever been in my life. Not a bad thing, I suppose. I'll certainly be prepared should the need for hand-to-hand combat arise in the near future." He sighed. "If you can call that a bright side. Computer, end log entry and seal with advanced personal code 'Reed Alpha'."

Showered and ready for bed, Reed thought he might actually be able to sleep. The past twenty-four hours had been intense. Topped off by the nearly three-quarters of an hour he'd ended up spending in the gym, it was enough to wear out anyone—even an overly randy Tactical Officer. He tried to think if there was anything more he needed to do before catching some much-needed shut-eye.

"Computer, send mission report to Captain Archer, and notify me when it's been read." Normally, he preferred to submit his reports in person, but with the Captain recovering from the injuries he'd received at P'Jem, he didn't know when he'd be available. Better to send it electronically this time so it was there whenever Archer was ready for it.

"Computer, set morning alarm to the standard time," he said, shutting off the lights. He pulled back the bedclothes and climbed under them, sighing as tired muscles relaxed into the mattress. He lay there for several minutes, watching the stars streaming by outside until his eyes drifted shut and he fell asleep.

*****

_He lay on his side, spooned comfortably around his lover. Their naked bodies pressed close, not wanting to miss a single sensation of skin-on-skin. One arm was pillowing his partner's head, the other wrapped loosely around his waist. With his free hand, Malcolm brushed gentle fingers along smooth, muscular abs._

He felt more than heard the chuckle as Trip murmured, "Mm. Tickles."

"Sorry," he answered, equally softly. "Did I wake you?" He planted a row of tender kisses across Trip's shoulder, felt the resultant shiver that ran through the engineer's body. "Maybe I can make it up to you." He nibbled teasingly at an earlobe as his hand trailed lower. Strong but gentle fingers drew circular patterns along Tucker's belly, following the line of soft hairs down to their target.

Trip was already hard, and as Malcolm grasped him, he felt the tumescence echoed in his own member. He pressed closer as Trip gasped with pleasure. "You can wake me up this way anytime," the engineer practically purred.

Reed woke suddenly to the incessant chirping of his alarm and the hollowness of an empty bed, the only reality of his dream his urgently throbbing erection.

"Good bloody morning," he snarled. "Computer, alarm off."

*****

End Log 2  
_(Completed 3 Nov 01)_

Continued in Log 3


	3. Log 3

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 3: **(This takes place immediately preceding, during, and immediately following the events of the episode _Breaking the Ice_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

Dr. Phlox had his hands full when the sickbay doors slid open.

"Don't move!" he ordered the unseen arrival. Carefully, he secured the lid on a small, clear tank. The tank was moving erratically, and he looked to be having some difficulty controlling it.

"There, there," he cooed to the contents. He turned on a bright light at one corner of the desk and set the wriggling tank beneath it. Almost immediately, the tank stilled. He turned to the waiting figure of Lieutenant Reed who stood just inside the room.

"My apologies, Lieutenant," Phlox said. "What can I do for you?"

"What is that?" Reed asked, pointing to the tank.

"Indosian sea worm," replied the doctor. "Nervous, fidgety little creature, but incredibly useful when treating certain viral infections. Fortunately, they become docile when exposed to bright light. Now, was there something you needed?"

The lieutenant pulled his eyes away from the strange thing in the tank. "Yes," he said a little hesitantly. His resolve had been firm, but having actually arrived at the moment he suddenly felt reluctant to make his request.

"Are you feeling all right?" Phlox asked solicitously. "No residual pain from your bullet wound?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. It's just that I'mhaving trouble sleeping."

"Please, have a seat." The doctor gestured to the diagnostic bed and Reed reluctantly sat on its edge. "What kind of trouble?" Phlox pulled out a small, hand-held medical scanner and began sweeping it slowly up and down in front of Reed.

"Nothing serious," Malcolm said quickly. "Just" He was finding this harder than he'd ever expected. _Coward,_ he thought, _just ask him._ "I wondered if you had something that couldinhibit REM sleep?"

The doctor looked surprised, at least as far as Reed could tell. He was still learning to interpret the doctor's expressions through his strange, Denobulan features.

"You've been troubled by dreams?"

"Not 'troubled' precisely." He sought for a way to explain the problem without having to actually explain it. "It's just my dreams have been rathervivid lately. They leave me feelingagitated when I wake up." He hoped Dr. Phlox wouldn't notice the hesitations in his voice and jump to any conclusions. It's what he would have done, if the circumstances were reversed; it was human nature. Fortunately, Dr. Phlox wasn't human.

"REM inhibitors can be dangerous, Lieutenant. The human brain needs to dream, to release subconscious thought, or it will eventually go mad."

_I'm already well on the way,_ Reed thought, but kept his mouth shut. "I'm sure it's nothing that will last. I'm just looking for a short-term treatment," he argued, instead.

"Still, I'd prefer not to use a REM inhibitor unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps if you could come to a conscious understanding of the source of your dream images, it would help you to put them to rest, so to speak. I understand the human psychologist Jung did extensive studies in dream interpretation. Tell me, what have your dreams entailed?"

Reed stood abruptly. He knew what the source of his dreams was and what they meant, and he wasn't about to share them, doctor-patient confidentiality notwithstanding. "Never mind. I have to go on duty," he said, heading toward the door.

"But, I'd like to help—"

"Thank you. Maybe later." The door slid quietly shut behind him.

Dr. Phlox was left with an empty sickbay and a puzzled expression.

*****

Reed's dreams had gotten—he hesitated to say "worse" because in so many ways they'd just gotten better and better. He settled on "more intense." He'd had no idea he possessed such a creative and adventurous subconscious. He had dreamed things that ranged from unlikely to downright dangerous; a few were simply impossible. However, there were some things that continued to pique his curiosity even under the light of day. He'd actually gone so far as to do a little research into the possibility of temporarily disengaging the artificial gravity in his quarters without affecting any other part of the ship. He wasn't certain yet if it could be done.

_I bet Trip could figure out how to do it,_ he thought as he stepped into a lift. He nodded briefly at the two crewmen already inside, then tapped a panel and requested the Bridge. _But if I brought it up,_ his mind continued, _he'd only ask why. And what would you say then, Malcolm? "Well, Commander Tucker, I thought you might like to join the Zero-G Club with me"?_ He shook his head slightly at the absurdity of it. _Not likely._

The lift paused to disgorge the two crewmen, and he was left alone for what little remained of his trip.

It was at times like this he felt as if he were a student again. Occasionally, he even wished it. At least back in school sticky sheets and constant erections were status quo, and one always had a datapad on hand in case of any untimely arousal. While he could probably come up with an excuse for constantly carrying around a datapad, he didn't really want to have to.

The lift doors opened and he stepped onto the Bridge. _Maybe I'll be lucky, and we'll find something to blow up today._

*****

It was better than he could ever have wished. A comet. The largest comet ever encountered by humans, and he was going to get to walk on it. Not only that, he was going to get to do some explosive excavation work. He couldn't have asked for a better diversion.

He felt a split second of regret that Trip wouldn't be joining him, but under the circumstances, he knew the presence of Ensign Mayweather would make for a safer mission. The comfortable camaraderie they shared was far less of a distraction than the constant presence of the Chief Engineer. And, Reed reasoned, he wouldn't have to keep worrying if Trip was safe; Trip would be on _Enterprise_.

Mayweather's enthusiasm was contagious. Reed was excited about the comet-walk, but Travis was almost like a kid, he was so giddy. 

"I've only seen snow twice in my life," the younger man admitted eagerly, as he piloted the shuttlepod toward the comet.

Malcolm smiled. "Well, then it's only fitting that we commemorate the occasion."

"You mean plant a flag?"

"Nah, too predictable."

"Snowball fight?"

"EV suits would take all the fun out of that." Reed considered some options as he completed a final check of their equipment for the comet-walk. "We'll just have to see how the spirit moves us when we get there." He knew what he'd want to do if Trip were with him, but once again, the EV suits would take all the fun out of it.

*****

The snowman was pretty good for someone who'd only seen snow twice before, but it needed a little something more.

"Hand me the plasma torch," Reed said, laughing. He quickly melted two eyes and a smile into the packed snow, then used the torch itself as the snowman's nose. He and Travis were still laughing when the Captain's voice came through their headsets.

"Archer to Lieutenant Reed."

Malcolm had barely a split-second to put on his "professional voice" as he hit the button on his EV suit to open the comm line. "Go ahead, sir."

As reprimands went, it was a mild one. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about the Vulcan ship until the Captain reminded them about the "observers." They'd been caught playing truant, and it didn't help that their small transgression had most likely been witnessed by the Vulcans.

"So, tell me," Archer said, "who's the sculptor?"

Reed cleared his throat a little nervously. "It won't be there long, sir," he assured him.

"Archer out."

Reed closed comms and exchanged a look with Mayweather. Without a word, the two returned to work.

*****

Despite Archer's little reminder, Reed couldn't help but take a few minutes to add some final touches to the snowman. This was an important mission, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it, too. Planting a charge at the base of the sculpture, he took a brief moment of silent pride in his mischievous additions. He made one last, quick visual sweep of the area before returning to Mayweather.

Travis looked up, noticed the snowman. "The ears are a nice touch," he said.

"I thought so," Malcolm agreed. The outline of a standard Vulcan hair-cut had been the final touch; he believed in focusing on the details.

He hailed _Enterprise_, apprised them of their status. Reed bit back a smile when two of his favorite words came from the Captain: "Blast away."

"Understood," he replied.

The two men settled themselves in the shelter of a nearby ice stand, and Reed blew the charges. It was an impressive site—like a heavy snowfall played first in reverse then forward. They waited for the debris to settle, then made their way to the edge of the crater.

"Impressive," said Mayweather.

Reed made a noncommittal sound. "I was hoping for a bit more symmetry," he answered, demonstrating with a gloved hand.

Travis grinned. "I'll get the drill."

It didn't take long to set up the drilling equipment, but the drilling itself was another matter. An unexpected layer of magnesite cracked the first drill bit, and there was a lengthy delay as they replaced it. Reed informed the Captain of it when he hailed.

"You may want to pick up the pace a little," Archer told him.

"Sir?" Reed listened as Archer explained the problem, but he wasn't unduly concerned. Other than the cracked drill bit, everything was running smoothly. He had no doubts as he told the captain, "We'll be done with time to spare, sir." He hadn't considered the possibility of an accident.

They'd finished collecting data and were about to clean up the site when Travis slipped climbing out of the crater. It was impossible to know how much damage was done to Mayweather's knee, and there was no way to do anything about it where they were. At Travis's insistence, Reed grabbed the core sample they'd taken, then help the injured helmsman out of the crater.

"Almost there," Reed assured him as they made their slow but steady way back to the shuttlepod.

"Might be faster without the suits," Travis said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes," the lieutenant agreed, "and a lot colder."

The view as the comet turned to face the nearby star was breathtaking. Reed wished he had time to enjoy it, but he and Mayweather both knew time was of the essence. They picked up the pace. Suddenly, there was a low rumbling sound, and he knew they were about out of time.

"What's that?" Travis barely had time to ask before the ice below them began to crack.

The cracks spread, like a giant, sprawling jig-saw puzzle, in all directions. They redoubled their efforts to get to the shuttlepod. The pair stumbled more than once as ice fissures opened up randomly around them. But finally, they made it to the shuttlepod and climbed inside.

Malcolm had barely sealed the door and was getting out of the bulkiest pieces of his EV suit when Travis, at the pod's helm, ignited the thrusters. Reed fought his way across the shuddering pod to the co-pilot's seat just as the ice under them shattered and gave way. The sinking feeling of the pod was echoed in his stomach as they careened down into the chasm. The two were thrown from their seats as the shuttlepod crashed backward into solid ice.

He climbed awkwardly to his feet, reached over to remove the collar of Mayweather's EV suit, asking, "You all right?"

"We should have never ignited the thrusters," the ensign said.

"Ah, it's not like we had a choice."

The comm beeped then, and Reed just managed to haul himself into the pilot's seat and respond. "Reed here."

The brief conversation with Archer did much to reassure him. He had faith in the Captain; he'd gotten him safely out of the tunnels on Terra Nova—he would do so again here.

That faith was tested as the pod lifted up, stopped abruptly, and lowered again slightly. Then they were thrown across the cabin as the pod fell once more.

He helped Travis back into a seat yet again, exchanged a look with the ensign. Bruised as he was from being tossed about, Reed knew it must be worse for the injured Mayweather. The younger man looked scared, but was hiding it well.

"How are you holding up?" he asked him.

"I'm okay, sir," Mayweather said through clenched teeth. "Just really looking forward to getting home."

"Me, too."

The shuttlepod shook again as the grapplers contacted with the hull. Or so they thought. 

"They've got us," Mayweather said with relief.

The comm beeped, and Reed hit the panel to respond. "Go ahead, _Enterprise_." They were both shocked to hear the unfamiliar voice that answered.

"This is Captain Vanik of the Vulcan ship, _Ti'Mur_. Stand by to ignite your engines and return to your ship."

*****

Reed was pretty sure Travis would have tried to fly the shuttlepod back to the ship had he given him the chance. But since he was injured, the lieutenant was quicker getting to the controls. 

"Stay put, Ensign," he said when it looked like Travis was going to protest. "I'll get us home. Besides," he teased, "I never get to fly these things when you're around. It's my turn." He flashed him a quick half-smile and was rewarded with the same.

"Can you blame me?" Mayweather joked back. "If you were me, would you trust you at the controls?"

"Too late to argue about it now. We're almost there." He hailed the ship. "Reed to _Enterprise_."

"_Enterprise_. Sato here," came the response.

"We're about ready to dock."

"Landing Bay is standing by."

"Ensign Mayweather is injured. Please notify sickbay; we're going to need a gurney."

"I can walk!" protested Travis as Hoshi was saying, "Understood. I'll let the doctor know."

"Reed out." He kept his eyes trained on his target as the landing bay loomed ahead, the docking arm extended in wait for them. "We'll be back to full gravity on board. Do you really want to walk all the way from the shuttle bay to sickbay?" he asked reasonably.

"When you put it like that" Mayweather admitted. But he had to get a dig in in return. "Just try to take it easy on the landing, okay? I know you're not real used to flying."

"Of course. Oh. I wouldn't worry about seeing the doctor. I'm sure he won't need to use any eel therapy on you." He knew he had his friend beat; Travis knew it, too, and so said nothing. Malcolm allowed himself just the barest of smiles at the victory.

As promised, they were met by a medical team, complete with gurney, as soon as the landing bay was sealed and repressurized. They quickly cleared the bio-scan before Travis was helped onto the gurney and whisked off to sickbay. Reed tried to get out of joining him, but his protests were fruitless, and he found himself flanked by two med-techs as they escorted him to sickbay, as well.

"It's really not necessary," he insisted. "I just need to grab a shower and a rest. I'm fine."

"Sorry, sir," the med-tech on his right said. "Dr. Phlox wants to do a full check of you both."

"I really don't see why."

"Please, sir," the young woman continued. "It's not up to me."

Malcolm realized there was no point in arguing; the woman was only carrying out her orders. He also realized his only real reluctance was at having to face Dr. Phlox again after their brief encounter that morning. With any luck, the good doctor would be too busy with other things to bring up his earlier request.

*****

In the end, he was glad he'd been forced to stop at sickbay. His muscles were sore, and he was more battered than he'd realized from being hurled back and forth in the shuttlepod. There were a lot of sharp corners inside a shuttlepod, and he was coming to the conclusion he'd hit just about all of them. Still, he was in better shape than Travis.

The helmsman had done extensive damage to himself between the fall and the subsequent race back to safety. Add to it all the tossing about, and Phlox said he'd be off his feet for several days.

"Days?" Travis complained from the diagnostic bed. He'd been stripped of the remains of his EV suit, and now lay there in his blues with a substantial, immobilizing brace around the damaged knee. He sat up enough to lean on his elbows, gestured with his head to where Malcolm sat across the room, equally at a loss for clothes. "He got shot back on Terra Nova, and he was up the next day."

"His was a simple wound," Phlox explained. "The damage to your knee will require extensive repair. You didn't think you were done here, did you?"

"No, but—"

"Once the repairs are made, you'll need to stay completely off that leg for the next four days."

"I can fly without standing up," he argued.

"No," said Phlox with finality.

"Malcolm." He tried another tactic. "_You_ talk to him."

"Do you really think I'm going to have any better luck?" Reed asked him. "I'm not even injured, and somehow I ended up here in my knickers."

Mayweather gave up with a sigh and laid back on the bed.

"I wouldn't say you're uninjured, Lieutenant," the doctor said. "Not according to my scans."

"What?" said Reed, surprised. "I'm fine. Just a bit bruised and sore."

"Take your shirt off," the Denobulan said. Puzzled, Reed complied, pulling off the tight tank shirt and wincing at the unexpected pain caused by the movement. "This," Phlox continued, indicating the lieutenant's ribcage, "is more than 'a bit' bruised."

Malcolm looked down, surprised at dark purpling of the skin over his right side. "I didn't even feel it happen!" he protested.

"Likely not, considering the circumstances. But I guarantee you you'll feel it tomorrow."

"You," Reed stabbed a finger at the chuckling Mayweather, "just keep your mouth shut."

"I didn't say a word," the young man protested, clamping down on his growing laughter.

"Fortunately, you didn't crack any bones," the doctor continued, ignoring the exchange. He retrieved a fist-sized tub of something from his desk. "I've synthesized some ointment for you. You'll want to apply it three to four times daily until the contusion fades. It shouldn't take more than a week _if you use it regularly_." He emphasized the last, making eye contact with the lieutenant.

"Understood," Reed complied, taking the ointment from him. "Will it work on the other bruises as well?"

"Absolutely. Just stop by if you run out, and I'll synthesize more."

"Thanks. Am I free to go now?" he asked.

"You are. But you might want to get dressed first," Phlox added lightly.

Travis couldn't hold back the snort of laughter.

"And what's so funny?" Reed demanded, not really angry but worn out and a little fed up.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Travis lied, still chuckling.

"Doctor Phlox?" Malcolm asked as he dressed. "Will you be using eel therapy in Travis's treatment?" He was rewarded with silence from the direction of the diagnostic bed.

"Possibly. Why?"

"No reason." He smiled a too innocent smile. "Just curious."

*****

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, personal log: I've walked on, built a snowman on, and drilled into the heart of a comet. Makes for rather a full day. A thankfully full day." He was sitting on his bed, gently rubbing ointment onto his bruised ribs. "I've hardly had a moment to think aboutother things. Ow! Computer, pause recording." He'd hit a particularly tender spot just below one rib and was having a hard time forcing himself to continue. He grit his teeth and finished applying the salve. 

"At least this stuff doesn't stink," he muttered. One never knew what one was going to get from Dr. Phlox. He used a large variety of unusual organic compounds in his medicines, some of which were reputed to be less pleasant in the short term than the malady they were intended to treat. Reed considered himself lucky; the ointment had a pleasant, lightly musky scent. He found he actually liked it.

"Damn," he said tiredly. "This would be a whole lot easier if I had someone to help Huh. So much for not thinking about 'other things.'" He was trying with limited success to massage the stuff into one shoulder blade when the computer chimed at him. Forgetting about log entries seemed to be becoming a habit. Resolving to pay more attention in future, he said, "Computer, end log entry." The resultant chime as the computer complied was followed immediately by the chirping of the ship's comm system.

"Tucker to Reed."

He tapped the comm panel, wincing at the extension of aching muscles. "Go ahead, Commander."

"Hey, Malcolm," came the engineer's pleasant twang. "We've got the initial test results back on that core sample you and Travis picked up. Thought you might want to take a look."

The offer was tempting for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the opportunity to see Trip for the first time since that morning. Ignoring the sensible part of his brain, which was telling him it was late, he was off duty, and he really should get some sleep, he replied, "Sounds good."

"T'Pol and I are in the Science Lab now. We'll see you here in a few."

"Right. Reed out." He dressed quickly, foregoing the tight blue tank and going straight for the soft black shirt worn under his standard cover-alls. The less contorting he had to do the better. Also, he didn't want to put excess pressure on any bruises; they were painful enough on their own.

As promised, Trip and T'Pol were waiting in the Science Lab when he arrived. The Vulcan turned abruptly at his entrance.

"Sorry," he said, misinterpreting the movement. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," she replied flatly. "In fact, I was warned of your approach by a distinct and unusual odour."

Trip sniffed the air experimentally. "You're right," he said to T'Pol, then turned to the Lieutenant. "Smells like cologne. You got a hot date tonight or something?" he teased.

"I wish," replied Malcolm and immediately regretted it. Hoping the others hadn't noticed the slip, he continued hastily, "I got a bit knocked about in the shuttlepod. Dr. Phlox gave me some medicine for the bruises. I'm afraid it's rather pungent."

"Actually, I think you smell pretty good," Trip said good-naturedly. "The doc could bottle the stuff and sell it. I bet he'd make a small fortune."

"I find I cannot agree," T'Pol said. "If you'll excuse me, I'm sure Commander Tucker can provide you with the information we've gathered on the core sample without my assistance. Gentlemen." She made a decorous, if hasty, exit.

Trip chuckled. Giving Reed a quirky smile, he said in a mock-conspiratorial tone, "Must be past time for her to take her nasal numbing agent."

Malcolm didn't care what the reason was—he was simply happy for the excuse to spend time alone with the Chief Engineer.

The information from the comet was fascinating, but there was a lot of it, and Malcolm was yawning more and more as they went through all the data. He was trying to be subtle, but Trip couldn't help but notice. "Maybe you should hit the sack," he suggested finally. "You must be pretty wiped out after that comet-walk."

"No, really. I'm fine," said Reed, stifling another yawn.

"Sure you are. You're like my nephew when he was little. Never wanted to miss out on anything. He'd be asleep in your arms and still muttering about how he wasn't tired."

Reed's exhausted mind latched onto the image of Trip holding a little boy who's head was cradled on one strong shoulder. "Sounds nice," he said. It wasn't until Trip responded that he realized he'd spoken aloud.

"Huh?" Trip gave him a quizzical look.

"The image. Family," Malcolm added hastily, although it wasn't the whole truth. In his heart, he knew he'd meant more than that; his mind was spinning, thinking how he'd like to be held in those arms, his head resting close to Tucker's heart. "I think you're right," he said then. "I am pretty tired. I should get some rest."

Trip gave him a concerned look. "You sure you can make it there on your own? You look like you're about to drop where you stand."

"I'll be fine. Thanks." He turned to the door, almost walked into it before one hand found the frame and fumbled for the control panel.

"I think I'll walk with you," Trip said, stepping quickly to the smaller man's side and opening the door. "The rest of this stuff can wait until morning."

"It's not necessary," Reed protested lamely. "I'm fine."

"Right. Try telling the doc that when you have to explain how you broke your nose walking into a door."

Malcolm had neither the energy nor the inclination to argue. He allowed the commander to escort him back to his cabin. It was funny, really. Trip was quite the gentleman; he hailed the lift, requested the deck, opened any doors for him. If Reed hadn't been so out of it, he'd have been almost embarrassed. As it was, he was so tired, he hardly noticed.

They reached his cabin, and he stood for a moment, staring blankly at the door, until Trip said, "You have to open this one yourself."

"Of course." Malcolm pulled himself together enough to look at Trip. He forced tired eyes to focus on the Chief Engineer's blue eyes and handsome face, then forced his mind back from that path to the present. "Sorry to pull you away from work," he said, finally.

"No big deal," Trip assured him. "You get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Right. Thanks." He turned back to the door, keyed in the code. The door slid open, and he stepped inside. "Good-night."

"G'night, Malcolm." Trip waited for the door to close, making sure the exhausted Tactical Officer was safely inside, before heading off on his own errands.

"Bloody hell," sighed Reed. He sank onto his bunk feeling completely knackered. "Someday," he declared wearily, "I'm going to be whole, healthy, and awake, and I'm going to ask that man out on a date. I have no idea where we'd go, but I'm bloody well going to ask him."

*****

End Log 3  
_(Completed 9 Nov 01)_

Continued in Log 4


	4. Log 4

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** — Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 4**  
(This take place between the episodes _Breaking the Ice_ and _Civilization_.)  
_Rating [PG]_

*****

"You're really going to do it?"

"I am."

"You're going to ask him out?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes! Why do you have a problem with this?"

"I don't."

"Your little inquisition implies otherwise."

"I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I know what I'm getting myself into, thank you."

"But he outranks you."

"I'm not going to ask him out while we're on duty!"

"But you've worked really hard to build up this friendship. Aren't you worried everything will change if you start seeing each other moreromantically?"

"I prefer to date someone who's already a friend. There's none of that awkward 'getting to know you' nonsense."

"What if he turns you down?"

"I'll cry buckets and eat myself into oblivion on chocolate ice cream?"

"Very funny."

"What do you expect me to say?"

"Okay, okay. Where are you going to go?"

"I've thought of a couple of options."

"Like—?"

"There's the observation deck."

"Like you don't both look at stars all the time anyway."

"Not _all_ the time. We're neither of us in Stellar Cartography."

"So, what's another option? You said 'a couple'."

"We're not far from a binary star system with two potentially M-class planets. Scuttlebutt says if they're uninhabited, the Captain's going to grant everyone shore leave. What do you think of a picnic?" Ensign Stephanie Cormack finished French-braiding her unruly blonde curls and turned to look at her bunkmate.

"There's a lot of room for failure in that second idea of yours," Ensign Cutler replied.

"Gods, Liz, you're such pessimist sometimes!"

"I don't mean _you'll_ fail. I just mean there are too many unpredictable variables: _if _either planet is actually M-class, and _if_ it's determined to be safe" (She shuddered slightly at the memory of her own encounter with a new M-class planet.) "and _if_ it's uninhabited, and _if_ the Captain grants shore leave"

"I get your point. Thanks for the support," Stephanie said sarcastically.

"I'm just playing devil's advocate," Elizabeth protested. "I really do think it's a great idea you're asking him out."

"Then just wish me luck," she almost pleaded. "I'm planning to ask him tonight after mess."

Cutler smiled encouragingly at her friend. "Knock him dead. Lieutenant Reed won't know what hit him."

*****

Several decks away on the bridge, Lieutenant Reed was blissfully unaware of the plans being made for him. It was for the best, as he was making plans of a similar nature himself. At the moment, however, all thoughts of dating were set aside as they collected more data from their long-range sensors.

"The third planet in the system appears to be C-class," T'Pol said. "However, there is a high probability that the fourth planet is class N."

"Earthlike, but mostly water?" said Hoshi.

T'Pol looked to the young woman. "That is correct. Approximately 97.83 percent of the surface appears to be ocean."

Malcolm knew better than to say anything out loud—Vulcan hearing was reputed to be extremely acute—but he couldn't help thinking, _She calls that _approximate_?_ He glanced up, and his gaze met that of Commander Tucker. From the slight smirk on Trip's face, he made the accurate guess that he knew what Reed was thinking and was thinking it himself. The lieutenant offered a small half-smile and shrug in return.

T'Pol was continuing. "Sensors are unable to determine at this distance whether or not either planet supports any native plant or animal life."

"How long would it take us to reach the fourth planet if we were to increase our speed to, say, warp three point five?" Archer asked.

"Nine hours, thirty-seven minutes," replied T'Pol.

"Then we'll just have to pick up the pace. Travis, increase speed to warp factor three point five."

"Warp three point five, aye," Mayweather said, and carried out the command.

*****

The excitement on the ship was palpable. Rumors had spread about the possibility of shore leave, and after three months in space, most people were ready for a change of scenery.

"Word is it's almost entirely ocean. I would _love _ to go sailing," sighed Ensign Cormack over her plate of spinach salad. "My mom would always take my sister and me sailing on English Bay when we were kids. The best was when they held the fireworks competitions in the summer. We'd go out early in the day to get the best spot, and anchor just outside the restricted area. Once the sun set, we'd just lay on our backs and watch the show. Fantastic."

"I've never been sailing," said her bunkmate, taking a sip of peppermint tea. "Not a lot of places to sail where I'm from."

"Shame," Stephanie offered her condolences. "It's wonderful. It's what made me join Starfleet, actually." She was about to explain when the door to the mess hall opened, and Reed and Mayweather entered. 

Cutler caught her sidelong glance and followed it to its resting point. "Let me guess," she said in a conspiratorial undertone. "You want me to get lost."

"Absolutely not!" Cormack insisted, equally quietly. She held Liz's gaze with her own. "If you ditch now, I'm going to be stuck here eating by myself, and how awkward would _that_ look?"

"Don't you want to invite him over?"

"Liz, do you have any practice at this at all?" She regretted it the moment she said it. "Sorry. That was out of line. I'm just nervous and don't want to admit it." 

The hurt look faded from Cutler's face. "It's all right," she said. "So, what's your plan?" The pair surreptitiously watched the two men load up their plates and claim a table.

"Simple. We finish dinner. I grab a quick shower, make myself all fluffy, slip into something morecivilian, and come back here for an evening cup of tea."

"You don't drink tea," her roommate stated flatly.

"Yeah, but he does."

"How do you know?"

"I'm assuming. He's British, after all," Cormack said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't mean anything," Elizabeth argued.

"Work with me, Liz."

Cutler shook her head and chuckled. "You're nuts."

"No, I'm on the prowl." Stephanie gave her a mischievous grin.

Across the room, the object of their conversation was oblivious to the effect he was having on the two women. His dinner companion, however, was not.

"Hey, Malcolm," Travis said quietly. "Don't look, but I think someone's checking you out."

"Excuse me?" Reed looked at him across the table, puzzled.

"Ensign Cutler over there." He gave the slightest of indications with a tip of his head in her direction. Malcolm started to turn, but Travis hissed, "Don't look!"

"All right. What makes you think she's 'checking me out'?"

"She keeps glancing this way and then talking to her friend."

"And you don't suppose they're looking at you?"

"Well, I suppose they could be. I am stunningly good-looking," Mayweather said with a grin. "But she's definitely looking at _you_."

"That's ridiculous. I've only ever spoken with Ensign Cutler on one occasion," the Tactical Officer said dismissively. This was a conversation he did not want to be having. And he sincerely hoped Travis was wrong. If he wasn't, it would mean an added complication he really didn't need.

Mayweather, however, wouldn't let the subject drop. "So?"

"So? Well, to be honest, I don't even remember her first name."

"Elizabeth."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Wait! They're leaving."

Malcolm rolled his eyes at the younger man's misguided enthusiasm. _What on Earth would Travis say if I told him I wasn't interested because I'm waiting for the right boy?_ He shook his head and returned his attention to his meal. "We should be coming into obit around that N-class planet in about two hours," he said, trying to bring Mayweather back to a sensible subject.

"They're gone," the helmsman said, instead.

"Travis, let it go."

"Why? Don't you like Ensign Cutler?"

"I've already told you, I don't even _know _her."

"She's cute."

"Ensign" He let the word hang in the air, exuding menace.

"Okay. Okay." Mayweather finally let it drop. "What do you think my chances are of getting the helm when we get to the planet?" he asked, proving he hadn't been _completely_ ignoring Reed's attempt to change the topic of conversation.

"Depends. Who's on duty?"

"Chen."

Malcolm had to chuckle. "Not a chance in hell."

"Yeah. That's what I figured."

*****

"Report," the Captain said, coming onto the Bridge. T'Pol relinquished the captain's chair and returned to the science station. As she did, the lift doors opened again as Reed, Mayweather, and Tucker stepped out. Malcolm and Trip immediately headed to the tactical and engineering stations, respectively, and relieved their Beta shift counterparts. Mayweather simply stayed back out of the way, wanting to be present, but knowing he wasn't going to be able to oust Ensign Chen without effort. It was easy for the others; they outranked their Beta shift officers.

"The planet is definitely N-class," T'Pol said, gazing into the scanner unit. "Nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere with other trace elements and a notable level of sulfur dioxide."

"How notable?" the captain wanted to know.

T'Pol looked up from her scanners. "Below toxic levels, but likely to be unpleasant even to human olfactory senses."

"I can think of someone who won't be joining any landing parties here," joked Tucker quietly. Reed bit back a laugh, drew an inquiring look from the captain.

"Something caught in my throat," he offered as explanation, clearing his throat to demonstrate. When Archer's attention returned to the business at hand, Reed shot a look at the Chief Engineer. Trip's lips were pressed tight as he unsuccessfully fought back a mischievous grin.

Meanwhile, T'Pol continued her report. "Diameter is 14,723 kilometers. Gravity 1.3 of Earth. There is one large landmass at co-ordinates one-zero-two mark seven by nine-three mark four-one."

"On screen," said Archer. The image of the landmass came into view on the screen. "That's the biggest piece of solid ground down there?"

"Yes. There are several smaller islands to the south, but that's all. I am reading substantial plant life, both terrestrial and aquatic. However, sensors are not picking up any animal life."

"Ensign Chen," said Archer, "bring us into geosynchronous orbit above the largest island."

"Aye, sir," Chen replied.

"So much for potential shore leave," said Archer a little regretfully.

*****

The landing party was to consist of Archer, Trip, Mayweather, and Dr. Phlox.

"Kind of makes up for not being at the helm when we got here," Travis admitted to Reed as they were loading the shuttlepod. "Especially since I haven't gotten out since our comet-walk."

"And you won't be stuck in an EV suit this time," Reed pointed out.

"That'll be a relief. Gravity's already a little high; EV suits would just make it worse."

"You might not be saying that once you get a whiff of the air down there."

"Then_ you _should be going," Mayweather teased. "I doubt you could smell it over that salve Dr. Phlox had you using."

"Thank you," said Reed dryly, "for bringing that up. It did what it was supposed to do. And I haven't used it in over a week, you know. Besides," he added defensively, "I didn't think it was all that bad."

"If you say so," the helmsman said, obviously not agreeing.

_Trip liked it,_ Malcolm thought. His mind drifted to Trip and potential uses for lightly scented lotions as he handed the last case of equipment to Mayweather, who tucked it inside the shuttlepod.

"All loaded up?"

Reed jumped at the sound of Tucker's voice behind him. He was lucky he wasn't prone to blushing, or he knew he'd have been beet red just then.

"You're all set," he said, turning to face the Chief Engineer. As always, he was caught for a split-second in Trip's blue eyes. He quickly moved his gaze beyond to where Captain Archer and Dr. Phlox were entering the launch bay.

"Ready to go?" the Captain asked.

"Everything you'll need is on board," Reed answered.

"I dunno," drawled Commander Tucker. "I'm guessing we could all use a shot of T'Pol's nasal numbing agent. Sure it won't work on us humans?" He turned an inquiring look on Dr. Phlox.

"Certainly it would work," the Denobulan replied, "but on a somewhat drastic scale. Shall we go?" Not bothering to explain his statement in greater detail, he stepped into the shuttlepod and took a seat.

Mayweather climbed in next and automatically took the helm. "Shift over, Ensign," Archer said, following him in. "I feel like flying today."

"Aye, sir," Travis said, moving grudgingly to the navigation seat.

"See you in a few hours," Reed said to Trip just before the Chief Engineer joined the others.

"Stay out of trouble," joked Trip.

"And you."

Trip grinned and shut the shuttlepod door. Reed exited the launch bay, watched from the control room as the bay doors opened and the shuttlepod dropped into space.

*****

Judging from Mayweather's comments, Reed was rather glad he wasn't a part of this particular landing party.

"I swear, I don't think I've ever smelled anything so disgusting in my life," the ensign said over the comm.

"You haven't spent six hours in a decompression chamber with a load of Klingons," Trip's voice followed immediately.

Hoshi and Malcolm both chuckled. T'Pol merely raised an eyebrow. "Are you having any success?"

"Yeah," Trip answered. "Dr. Phlox is collecting samples like a madman. He's like a kid in a candy store; I've never seen him so excited. There're some interesting minerals down here, too," the Chief Engineer continued. "Stuff I've never seen before. Be interesting to get them back to the ship and run more complete tests on them."

"I will be interested to see what you bring back."

"I'll make sure you get an invitation to the unveiling," quipped the engineer. "Tucker out."

*****

Officially, Lieutenant Reed was off duty. He only wanted to be on the bridge to be able to hear the reports from the landing party.

_To hear Trip's voice_, he admitted privately. _What am I going to do with you?_ he chided himself. 

He was filling the time running what diagnostics he could from the tactical station. To do the job properly, he ought to go to the Armory, but since the diagnostics weren't really necessary, he stayed where he was. As a result, he was there when the Captain's voice came through the comm.

"Archer to _Enterprise._ We have an emergency."

"What is it, Captain?" T'Pol replied calmly.

They could hear the roar of the shuttlepod's engines as Archer continued. "Some of these minerals aren't as inert as we thought. Commander Tucker's injured. Dr. Phlox is doing what he can, but I need you to alert sickbay to have a burn unit ready."

Sato immediately relayed the message to the duty nurse in sickbay at the same time Reed was notifying the landing bay to prepare for the shuttlepod's arrival.

"Landing Bay is ready for you, sir," Malcolm said, trying to keep his voice from revealing the fear that twisted his stomach.

"An emergency medical team will meet you there to transfer the commander to sickbay," added Hoshi.

"Good. Archer out."

"I'll meet them at the landing bay," said Reed, rising. "If there are more surprises from those samples, I want to be on hand for damage control."

T'Pol acknowledged him with a slight nod, and he made his exit.

The moment the lift doors shut and he was on his way, Malcolm collapsed back against the wall. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn!" he swore with increasing vehemence. He made a quick stop at the Armory for haz-mat containment equipment. He spotted Ensign Cormack. "Ensign," he called out. "I need a hand here."

She was at his side immediately. "What's up, sir?"

"Landing party ran into some unexpectedly volatile materials. They're on their way back. I need an extra pair of hands getting this stuff to the landing bay."

"Yes, sir." She picked up the remaining containers and followed him out. "Is everyone okay?" she asked as the lift sped on.

"No," was Reed's terse reply.

"Sir?" She looked at him with worried eyes. But there was no time to hear his answer, or to know even if he was going to give one. The lift opened and they jogged quickly to the landing bay.

The medical team was already waiting as the bay slowly repressurized. Malcolm wanted to force the doors open and dash inside. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath. He didn't notice the quick glance this elicited from Ensign Cormack.

After moments that felt like hours, the doors opened and the medical team rushed in, Reed and Cormack close on their heels.

Frantic medical jargon flew back and forth between the duty nurse and Dr. Phlox. All of it went over Lieutenant Reed's head. The few words he registered were lost from his mind as he watched them lift Tucker out of the pod and onto the gurney. He was soaked to the skin, and he was unconscious. Burns covered his right arm, chest and face.

Reed dumped the containment equipment he carried onto the floor, grabbed the doctor by one arm. He had to know. "Will he be all right?"

"I don't know yet, Lieutenant." The Denobulan turned back to his charge, looked at the nearest med-tech. "Let's move." And they were gone.

Reed watched them leave, his own task momentarily forgotten. It took the Captain's voice to bring him back to the present. "Lieutenant."

"Sir," he said quickly. "I have the containment equipment."

"Good. Travis," Archer turned to the helmsman, "give them a hand loading the samples. And be careful," he added emphatically, before following the medical team out the door.

Reed turned to Mayweather. "What in hell happened down there?" he demanded.

"I'm not really sure," he answered. Cormack and the two men set to work securing the vegetable and mineral samples in the heavy, hazardous materials containers. Travis continued, "We were collecting specimens. The commander was about ten meters away from me when it happened. The sensors had picked up something he wanted to check out, some crystalline formation about two meters out into the water. I was looking the other way, helping Dr. Phlox, and suddenly Trip was screaming. I looked around, and it was like he was on fire."

"Apparently, he was," Reed said, tight-lipped.

"Gods!" breathed Cormack.

"It only took us a few seconds to get to him, but he was already passed out. The doctor said it was from the shock. He'd collapsed into the water. The Captain pulled him out, or he might have drowned."

"You have no idea what caused the fire?"

"No."

"Think! For all we know, it's one of these damned specimens you brought back," said Reed sharply.

"I don't think so," Mayweather said. "Everything here was from the island. Dr. Phlox hadn't gotten to the sea life yet; and Trip was out in the water, like I said. Whatever hurt him, I don't think we brought any of it back." 

"I hope you're right."

They finished transferring the sample containers in silence. When they were done, Reed was the first to speak. "Listen, Travis, why don't you go get cleaned up? Stephanie and I will get these secured and stowed in the science lab."

"You sure you don't need a hand?" Mayweather asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. Go on." As Travis started to leave, the lieutenant added, "I'm sorry I snapped at you before."

The ensign stopped at the door. "It's okay," he said. "I understand." 

_No,_ thought Reed, _you don't. But that's for the best at this point._

"Sir?" Cormack said. "I've checked all the seals, and these are ready to be moved."

"Thanks, Ensign. Let's go."

They gathered up the containers and made their way to the science lab. Reed was lost in his own thoughts, and so didn't hear Cormack speak at first.

"Sorry," he said. "Did you say something?"

She looked at him, concerned. "I just wondered if you were okay," she said a little shyly. "I mean, it's none of my business, but You seem a little distracted."

Reed gave her a self-deprecating smile. "That's a very politic way to put it. Travis would have said I was out to lunch."

"Well, I didn't want to be the one to say it." She returned his smile with one of her own. "You're worried about Commander Tucker, aren't you?" she continued hesitantly.

"Yes."

"I'm sure Dr. Phlox is doing everything he can."

Malcolm didn't answer as they reached the science lab and unloaded their burdens. One by one, Cormack handed him the cases, and Reed secured them with warning tags. "Don't you want to start going through them now?" she asked.

"No. Best to wait for Sub-commander T'Pol. She's the Science Officer."

"Right." There was another awkward silence, which Stephanie finally broke. "Listen, I'm actually off duty. Do you want to get a cup of tea or something while you wait for word on the Commander?"

Malcolm considered the offer for a moment before replying. Part of him screamed to be alone where he could vent some of his worry over Trip, but he knew that was a dead end. Pacing around his cabin wasn't going to do the Chief Engineer any good. Better to have some company to maybe keep his mind off things. "That's a good idea," he said at last.

*****

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he looked across his steaming mug at Ensign Cormack. "You're off duty."

"Yes."

They were alone in the mess hall at this late hour, sitting in the semi-darkness and sharing a pot of Assam tea.

"What were you doing in the Armory?"

Cormack looked away awkwardly. "Nothing, really," she admitted. "Myevening plans kind of fell through, so I thought I'd do some work."

"I think I understand."

"I didn't have a date or anything!" Cormack exclaimed, and immediately regretted it.

Reed looked at her a little surprised at the outburst. "Oh," was all he could say.

She quickly tried to cover her error. "I just didn't want you to think I got stood up," she said, giving a nervous little laugh. "I mean, how sad would that look, to get stood up on board a ship? Where would the other person have gone, right? I'm babbling. I'll shut up now."

"It's all right." Malcolm actually found himself smiling. "I just meant I've occasionally found myself looking for things to do, too."

Now, it was Stephanie's turn to say, "Oh. That must be why I run into you so often in the gym," she added, trying desperately to change the subject to anything else.

At that moment, the ship's comm beeped and they heard, "Dr. Phlox to Lieutenant Reed."

Malcolm hurried to the nearest comm panel and responded. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"I got the impression you wanted to be apprised of Commander Tucker's condition. Was I correct?"

"Yes." He shot a nervous glance back toward the table where Stephanie sat, waiting expectantly. He lowered his voice just slightly. "How is he?"

"He's stabilized."

"That's all?" He tried with little success to keep the panic from his voice.

"Why don't you come to sickbay, and we can talk more privately."

"I'll be right there. Reed out."

"Good news?" Cormack said hopefully, standing and taking a step toward him.

"I'm not really sure. Will you excuse me?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Um Thanks for the tea."

"Any time."

Reed turned and left the mess hall. Stephanie sat again, wrapped her hands around her mug of tea. "Well," she muttered. "So much for that."

*****

"Doctor," said Reed as he entered sickbay. "Where is he?"

Phlox stood from his desk and met the lieutenant in the middle of the room. "Slow down, Lieutenant. He's in Recovery."

"Will he be all right? Can I see him?"

"Eventually, yes," Phlox said gently. "It will take some time, but he'll make a full recovery."

"Can I see him?" Malcolm repeated.

"He's sleeping right now. I don't want to take any chance of waking him. He needs to rest to facilitate the healing process."

Relief washed over Reed, and he felt as if his legs were about to give out with the release of tension. Apparently, it showed.

"Why don't you sit down?" The doctor offered a chair solicitously.

The lieutenant collapsed unceremoniously into it. "Thanks."

Phlox pulled up a second chair and sat. "Lieutenant," he began, then stopped.

"Yes?" Malcolm looked at him, guessing what he was going to say.

"I'm sensing anextraordinary amount of concern on your part for Commander Tucker."

Reed made a rare snap decision. "Yes. I care about him. A lot," he said.

"Does he know this?"

"No. Is there a point to your questions, Doctor?" He didn't want to be rude, but he really wanted to know where this conversation was going. If it was going to a lecture, he didn't want to hear it.

"I suppose not," Phlox answered pleasantly enough. "I've simply had some concerns about you lately."

"Concerns?"

"I've noticed you've been overly tense. And you've been in here more than once with minor injuries from your sessions in the gym."

Reed looked down at his hands. It was true. He'd been in not two days ago with a minor sprain in his left wrist.

"I was growing worried," the doctor went on. "There are cases on record of self-destructive behavior by humans in a variety of situations, including being cooped up on a submarineor starship?" He looked inquiringly at the lieutenant. "I hope that isn't the case here."

"It isn't," Reed assured him. He made eye contact, held it. "I promise you. I'm not working out in an attempt to hurt myself. I'm working out to burn offexcess energy." He hoped the Denobulan would understand so he wouldn't have to explain further. He was in luck—sort of.

"Ah!" said the doctor as if struck by an epiphany. "Repressed sexual tension! Of course! That explains so much."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself," Malcolm said quickly. "If anyone else is going to find out about my feelings for Trip, it should be Trip, and it should come from me."

"Naturally, lieutenant. Everything said here is strictly confidential, I assure you."

"Thank you." Reed stood, but hesitated for just a moment to ask one more time, "Are you sure I can't see him? Just for a moment. I won't make a sound. I justwant to see for myself that he's all right."

"I understand completely, Lieutenant," Phlox said compassionately. "No."

Reed's shoulders slumped a little, and he sighed. "It was worth a try. Let me know when he's ready for visitors?"

"Of course." The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile. "You'll be the first to know."

Malcolm nodded his thanks, not trusting himself to say anything more. He turned and left the sickbay.

*****

End Log 4  
_(Completed 13 Nov 01)_

Continued in Log 5


	5. Log 5

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** — Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 5**  
(This takes place shortly after the events of the episode _Civilization_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, personal log: I still haven't done it. It would be easy if I didn't fancy him so much. Then, I could just ask him out, he'd say yes or no, and we'd go on from there. Sure. It's easy to ask a question when you don't give a damn about the answer."

He sat at the foot of his bed, began removing his boots. "For a while," he continued, "I was beginning to think there was something between him and T'Pol. I'm certain something happened while Travis and I were on that comet. There seemed to be a connection between them that wasn't there before. I wouldn't call it affection—Does that count as an emotion to Vulcans?—maybean affinity? And why not, really? I'm sure she's a striking woman, if you like that sort of thing. But after the way he directly opposed her orders on the bridge the other day, perhaps I was wrong.

"I'm still not entirely certain what to make of T'Pol. I've had my doubts about her, especially after that debacle at P'Jem, but I've come to believe she had no more idea what was going on there than we did. And while I don't always agree with her methods, she's proved herself to be a strong officer, capable of command decisions, maintaining discipline." He paused for a moment, remembering Trip's outburst when he thought T'Pol was going to abandon the captain on the Akaali homeworld. "Well, usually. Trip seems to be an exception to a lot of rules. Computer, end log entry and seal with advanced personal code 'Reed Alpha'."

Reed was just tying the drawstring on his pants when the door chimed. "Come in," he called. The door slid open to reveal Ensign Travis Mayweather. He was dressed similarly to the lieutenant in workout gear, a towel draped over one shoulder.

"You ready to go?" the young helmsman asked.

"Just about." Reed grabbed his own towel and a roll of cloth tape from the lavatory counter. "Let's go," he said.

*****

They entered the gym, both laughing at a terrible joke Mayweather had just made. Travis stopped laughing abruptly when he saw the figure sprawled on the floor.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, starting to rush toward her. Reed grabbed his arm, held him back. "What are you doing? She's probably hurt!"

"She's fine," he assured him in a quiet voice. "She's doing yoga."

"What? She's lying there like she just got run over."

"It's called the dead man's pose. She's just relaxing." He sat on the bench, began taping his feet and hands in preparation for his bout with the heavy punching bag.

Still glancing dubiously at the supine form, Travis sat beside him. "I didn't know you knew yoga."

"I don't. But I know Ensign Cormack. She's here about as often as I am."

Cormack slowly rolled to one side and sat up, letting the towel fall from where it rested over her closed eyes. Eyes still closed, she sat lotus, hands together as in prayer.

"Told you," Malcolm said, nodding in her direction.

Mayweather studied the woman's face for several seconds. "She's familiar," he said softly enough he was sure only Reed would hear, despite the fact that the woman appeared to be oblivious to her surroundings.

"Everyone's familiar after a few months on board ship," Reed answered equally quietly.

"No, I mean from somewhere specific." 

"She helped unload the specimens you brought back from the N-class planet the other week," offered Reed. He shivered at the memory of the planet where Trip had been injured. The Chief Engineer was fine now, but Reed could never erase from his memory the image of Tucker, unconscious and badly burned, being rushed off to sickbay.

"No, that's not what I'm thinking of." Mayweather thought hard until realization struck him. "I know! She was with Ensign Cutler in the mess hall that time."

"What time?"

"Remember? Just beforewe got to that N-class planet?"

"How could I forget? I _was _just talking about it," Malcolm said dryly.

Mayweather continued, ignoring the lieutenant's tone. "She was with Cutler when she was checking you out in the mess hall."

"You're not going to bring that nonsense up again, are you?"

"Huh, maybe it wasn't Cutler who was interested in you. Maybe it was—what's her name again?"

"Malcolm," Cormack said then, smiling at him. "Namaste. I didn't hear you come in." She unfolded herself and rose smoothly to her feet.

"Hi, Stephanie. Good workout?" Reed replied.

"Excellent. I'm feeling very Zen now." She used the towel she had to dry the back of her neck where several long curls had escaped their bonds and were sticking to her damp skin. "Admittedly, Zen and yoga aren't actually from the same culture, but sometimes you just have to go with it. Hi." She turned her attention to Mayweather. "Stephanie Cormack," she said, putting out a hand.

Travis took it and shook it. "Travis Mayweather," he answered.

"Pleasure to meet you. So, did Malcolm trick you into joining him for one of his torture sessions, or did you come here voluntarily?"

"_My_ torture sessions?" Reed said. He looked at Mayweather. "You should see some of the convoluted positions she gets herself into. _That's_ torture."

"Into and _out of_," protested Cormack, quickly running her towel over her yoga mat before rolling the mat up. "Besides, you're just jealous you're not as bendy as me."

Malcolm and Stephanie laughed; Travis wasn't quite sure what to make of the exchange. Reed was pretty relaxed around him, but he'd never seen the lieutenant so completely at ease with anyone before.

"I better hit the showers," Cormack said. "Hey. Have you gents had dinner yet?"

"I haven't," answered Reed. "Travis?"

"No."

"Why don't you join me and my bunkmate after your workout?" she said.

"It's going to be a while. Sure you want to wait?" Malcolm asked.

"We weren't planning to hit the mess hall until about 2030. Liz is still on duty."

"Liz Cutler?" asked Mayweather.

"That's her."

"Sure. I'll be there. Malcolm?" He gave Reed a look of mock innocence.

The lieutenant didn't bother to dignify it with a response. "All right," he said to Cormack, instead.

"Great! See you at 2030." Stephanie smiled again and left the gym.

Travis studied Reed as he finished taping up his hands. Malcolm noticed his scrutiny, returned the look, saying, "What?"

"You seriously expect me to believe that neither she nor Cutler is interested in you? That was a set-up if I've ever seen one."

Reed sincerely wondered if the helmsman _had_ ever seen one. "Cormack is just a friend, and she's also a member of my tactical team. I'm sure she knows as well as anyone the problems that can arise when people on the same team become involved," he said, neatly skirting the real issue.

"And Cutler?"

"I told you before: I don't know Ensign Cutler." He emphasized the last, hoping Mayweather would let the damn subject drop. The ensign hadn't brought it up for several days; Malcolm was a little fed up to discover it was still an issue.

"Well, you'll get your chance to get to know her tonight."

Malcolm stood and approached the punching bag, looking forward to taking out his growing annoyance with his friend on the uncomplaining bag. "Why is my personal life so important to you?" he asked, taking a few warm-up jabs.

"I don't know," Travis admitted.

"Then let it go. Please."

Travis looked at Reed, surprised at the tired, almost sad tone in his voice. "Okay," he said simply.

*****

Dinner turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant affair. The four of them chatted easily about work, their families and homes back on Earth. Reed found Ensign Cutler to be intelligent and funny. If he'd had any interest in women, he would have found Mayweather's earlier suggestions intriguing, although he still doubted they were accurate. He'd gotten no impression that Elizabeth had any romantic interest in him. If anything, he thought she'd spent quite a bit of time talking with Travis.

_Good. A chance to do a little teasing of my own,_ he thought, and filed his observations away for use at a later date.

There were few people left in the mess hall when the ship's comm chirped and they heard, "Armory to Lieutenant Reed."

Sighing, Reed stood. "Excuse me." He went to the nearest comm panel, punched up the connection. "Reed here."

"Ensign Young here, sir. Sorry to bother you, but we're having some trouble with the targeting scanners," the disembodied voice on the other end said. "We think it's a misalignment in the relays, but we can't seem to track it down. "

"I'll be right there."

"Thank you, sir. Armory out."

Reed returned to the table long enough to make his apologies before heading off to the Armory.

"Sure you don't need an extra set of hands?" Cormack asked.

"No, thanks. No point in interrupting two dinners," he answered.

"Let me know if you change your mind. You know I know those targeting scanners inside and out."

"Thanks."

*****

It was nearly 0200 when Reed finally got back to his quarters. Having spent the better part of the last five hours going through every relay in the ship's tactical systems, he'd begun to wish he'd taken Ensign Cormack up on her offer of assistance. If nothing else, she was smaller and more flexible than he was; it would have been easier for her to crawl through some of the smaller jefferies tubes.

_At least we got the bloody thing sorted out,_ he thought, sighing. He collapsed into the desk chair, pulled off his boots. He stood back up, unzipped his uniform and stepped out of it. He was pulling off his shirt when he felt a twinge in his back, just under one shoulder blade. He reached over with the opposite hand, trying to massage the cramp out, but couldn't get himself twisted enough to reach it.

"Splendid," he snarled caustically. He considered his choices: a quick trip to see the duty nurse in sickbay would relieve the pain immediately; or he could try to ignore it and go to bed, hoping it would hurt less in the morning. Since the first option would have required getting dressed again, he opted for the second.

Carefully, so as not to jar his back further, he finished getting ready for bed and climbed thankfully under the covers. "Computer, set alarm for standard time," he said, waited the brief moment for the chirp as the computer complied. 

He didn't sleep well for a number of reasons. The pain in his shoulder woke him every time he tried to roll over. When he did manage to sleep, his dreams were full of jefferies tubes, each one smaller than the last. It was almost a relief when his bedside alarm went off.

Wincing, Reed sat up. "Computer, alarm off." If anything, his shoulder was hurting worse now than when he went to bed. "I must be getting old," he muttered. "I never used to have a problem with late nights." He made his way across the cabin, used the lav and shaved. He ran cold water in the sink, scrubbing sleep from tired blue eyes. When the sink was full, he shut off the tap, plunged both hands in and splashed the water on his face several times.

He let out the breath he held in a heavy sigh, watching the water spiral down the drain. _That's a hell of a wake-up call,_ he thought. He dried his face with a nearby towel.

Shoulder still aching, he dressed more slowly than usual. As a result, he left his quarters later than he was accustomed and barely had time to grab breakfast before going on duty; stopping by sickbay was out of the question.

He walked into the Armory and had to sigh. "Déjà vu," he mumbled.

Ensign Cormack, among others, was already there. She glanced up when he came in. "Morning, Lieutenant. I hear you had a rough night."

"You could put it that way," he agreed. "Young and I were here until nearly two o'clock."

"That explains the note on the duty roster," Cormack said. "You okayed him to come on duty late."

"Yes."

"Yet for some reason you didn't feel you could allow yourself the luxury of a lie-in?"

"I've got a lot to do today."

"Okay, but you have to admit, you look like you could use a couple more hours of sleep."

"I don't know whether I should be flattered at you concern, or offended at your assessment of my appearance," he said, his light tone taking the sting from his words.

"Take your pick," she joked back.

"Well, since I'm here, why don't we get to work on one of the torpedoes? The modifications were your suggestion, after all."

"You're going to hold that against me, are you?"

"If they work, you'll want the credit."

"True enough," Stephanie grinned.

The two went to the large weapons locker where torpedoes were stored. Reed keyed in the access code and opened the locker. Carefully, they removed one of the unarmed weapons and placed it on a nearby work table. Malcolm hissed in pain at the pressure put on his sore shoulder.

"You okay?" Cormack asked.

"Fine," he answered through clenched teeth.

"Yeah. I believe that," she replied, obviously not believing him for a second.

"It's just pinched a nerve or something, that's all. I'll stop by sickbay after we're done here. Let's get the panel off this torpedo. Hand me that screwdriver."

She did as ordered, and watched as he took it and began awkwardly undoing the screws that held the panel in place. He was having a hard time just holding onto the tool, and she wondered how long it would take him to ask for assistance. When she finally realized he wasn't going to ask, she broke down.

"Let me do that, Lieutenant" she said, putting out her hand to receive the screwdriver.

"I've got it."

"Sir, it's going to take all day this way. Please, let me help." Malcolm continued with the task, ignoring her outstretched hand. "Lieutenant, with all due respect—"

"I've found that phrase is usually followed by something rather less than respectful," he said, cutting her off.

Duly chastised, Cormack made no further comment, letting her hand fall to her side. She waited until he removed the last of the screws, then she reached over and pulled off the panel, setting it aside. When she looked back, Reed had set down the screwdriver and was reaching carefully into the weapon to remove the power cell. It caught on the edge of the opening, and he nearly dropped it.

Cautiously, the ensign reached out and took the cell from his hand. She looked at him across the table, concern showing on her face. He met her gaze and said, "I think I'll make a quick trip to sickbay. You continue working on this, and I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Aye, sir."

*****

He was half way back to the Armory, feeling so much better he wondered why he hadn't made the trip to sickbay sooner, when the page came over the ship's comm.

"Archer to senior staff. Report to the Bridge."

Reed found the nearest comm panel, acknowledged the page, and changed direction. He hailed the lift and was pleasantly surprised to find Commander Tucker already aboard when it arrived.

Malcolm stepped in. "Good morning, Commander," he said.

"Mornin', Lieutenant," was Trip's amiable reply.

"Any idea what's going on?" Reed asked as the lift resumed it's upward course.

"Not a clue. I was hip deep in engine parts when I heard the page. Naturally, I left Dillard in charge of cleaning up the mess," the Chief Engineer added with a mischievous grin.

The lift doors opened and the two men stepped onto the bridge. "Gentlemen," Archer said, spotting them. "Come take a look at this." He gestured to the main screen where three ships hung suspended in the vacuum of space. Two were roughly the size of _Enterprise_; the third was at least twice as big. All appeared to be adrift.

"Derelicts?" asked Tucker, taking his post at the engineering station.

"Not exactly," answered the captain. "T'Pol?"

The Vulcan looked up from her scanners. "Energy scoring and impact damage are evident on two of the vessels. Clearly, they were involved in battle. The third vessel appears to be undamaged, but abandoned. I'm reading no life signs on any of the ships."

"How about ion trails or warp signatures?" asked Reed from tactical. "Can we expect whatever hit them to show up unannounced?"

"Unlikely. I've found no energy signatures of any kind within range of our sensors."

"Is everyone else forgetting what happened the last time we encountered an apparently abandoned ship?" asked Hoshi. Her memories of the occasion were the least pleasant of her entire life.

Reed, too, remembered all too well. He'd handled it better than Sato, but he would freely admit it was something he never cared to experience again.

"All ships' life support systems are down, and I'm not reading any active power cells." said T'Pol. "It is logical to assume there is nothing nefarious going on aboard."

"Do you recognize the ship design?" the captain asked.

"Both are unfamiliar to me."

"Hoshi." Archer turned to his Communications Officer. "Double check the Vulcan database for anything that might identify these ships."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"If we send a team over, we might be able to recover some information from their computers to tell us what happened here," Archer continued. He looked inquiringly in Trip's direction. "Any volunteers?"

"I'd sure like to take look, sir," said the Chief Engineer, recognizing the set-up.

"I thought you might." Archer smiled at his old friend.

"Captain," said Sato, "I've completed a check of the Vulcan database. There's nothing there that matches these ships."

"All right. Trip, Malcolm, Hoshi—get suited up. You're taking a little ride."

"Sir, I really don't think—" Sato began, but stopped herself. Fighting back her fear, she said simply, "Yes, sir."

"Captain," said Reed, "request permission to add another tactical officer to the landing party. We'll be able to check the ship over more efficiently with two, while the commander and Ensign Sato work on the computers."

"Agreed."

T'Pol spoke up again. "I recommend you try the undamaged ship first. It's infrastructure is likely to be more stable, and there is a greater potential of accessing its systems."

Archer nodded in agreement, and the three officers left the bridge.

*****

The fourth member of the party was Ensign Cormack. As Tucker piloted the shuttlepod toward the derelict ship, she checked and re-checked the weaponry they'd brought. There were plenty of surprises in space; just because sensors said the place was empty didn't mean it was true.

They docked, got a solid seal around the airlock. Reed took the lead climbing into the alien ship, followed closely by Cormack, Sato, and Tucker.

It was dark inside, and each activated the headlamps on their EV suits as they emerged onto the deck. Any artificial gravity the ship might have had was as dead as the rest of the systems. Reed and Cormack floated several feet ahead before activating the maglocks in their boots. Gently, they were pulled down to the floor.

"I'll take the forward sections," said Malcolm through the comm. "Cormack, take the aft."

"Aye, sir."

"Hoshi and I'll try to find the bridge," Trip said. "You two keep your comm lines open to each other," he ordered the tactical officers. "Alone is one thing, out of contact is another."

They divided up and headed out. Reed slowly worked his way toward the bow. Something was odd about this place; he couldn't put his finger on what it was until he reached the engine room.

"Reed to Commander Tucker."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant" came Trip's voice.

"I think this ship was deliberately scuttled, sir. I've found what I believe to be engine room, but the engine core is gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes. The control panels have all been blasted by some sort of energy weapon. The engine looks undamaged butempty."

"Sir," Cormack's voice joined in. "I'm finding the same thing here. I'm in sickbay, I think. There's a lot of weapon scoring, but all very precise. There's even a shelf of petri dishes, each with a distinct scorch mark in the center."

"All right," Trip answered. "Hoshi and I are on the bridge, and it looks like we have the same story here. We'll check out the computer, see if we can find anything. I'll notify _Enterprise_. Tucker out."

Twenty minutes later, they were back aboard the shuttlepodempty-handed.

"Tucker to _Enterprise_."

"Go ahead, Commander," said Archer.

"Nothing, sir. Whatever happened here, looks like the people on this ship got out of it in one piece. They even had time to wipe the computer clean. I'd like to check one of the others vessels, see if we have any better luck there."

"All right. T'Pol says you should try the smaller of the two. From what we can tell, it sustained less damage and so should be more stable than the larger one."

"That's encouraging," muttered Sato, too quietly for Archer to hear, but not the rest of the landing party in the small shuttlepod. Tucker gave her a reassuring smile before answering the captain.

"We're heading that way now. I'll let you know what we find. Tucker out."

*****

It was a different story on the second vessel. There was widespread damage on every deck, and bodies scattered, drifting, in violent poses around the ship.

"I'm really not liking this," Sato said, trying not to look too closely at the dead aliens, mummified by time and the vacuum of space.

"We'll get what information we can here," said Malcolm. "I expect Dr. Phlox would appreciate anything we can learn about this species."

"Right," Trip agreed. "We'll get to the bridge, see if these folks left anything behind to tell us what happened." He and Hoshi moved off, leaving Cormack and Reed alone with the corpses.

"I've collected what I can with the scanner, sir," said Cormack. "For what it's worth."

"Maybe there's another option," Reed said then. "We might be able to use the transporter to send one of these bodies back to _Enterprise_ for Dr. Phlox to take a look at."

"Is that really a good idea, sir?" asked Cormack dubiously. 

"Possibly not, but we can suggest it, see what the captain thinks."

"Yes, sir."

After a brief consultation with _Enterprise_, they decided against it. "Let's see what we can learn from their records," Archer had said, "before taking that step."

Reed and Cormack split up to check the rest of the ship. It was clearly the same design as the first, and it didn't take Reed long to make his way to the engine room and then the armory. Even with all systems dead, it was impressive. He wished he could spend the next six months studying it. As best he could tell, the weapons were plasma-based; he'd never seen anything like it. 

Suddenly, he felt the floor shudder slightly. It lasted only a second or two, and once it stopped, the comm panel on his suit chirped. "Tucker to Reed. Did you feel that?"

"Yes," said Malcolm. "Apparently, the ship isn't quite as stable as we thought."

"It feels steady again now, but I think we better speed things up. Hoshi and I have just about got their computer figured out. With a little luck, we'll have access and be able to get the data downloaded in the next few minutes."

"Right. I'll check in with Cormack. Reed out." He hailed Ensign Cormack who responded immediately.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant," she assured him. "I lived through the Vancouver quake of 2146; a little rumbling doesn't bother me. I've completed my sweep of the aft section, and I'm working my way back toward you now."

"I'll meet you at the docking hatch."

"Aye, sir. Cormack out."

That was the moment Cormack realized she'd spoken too soon. With a deep rumble more felt than heard, the ship began to shake once more. Hands out instinctively for balance, she fought her way awkwardly across the shifting deckplates.

"Reed to Cormack," came over her headset.

She managed to tap the panel on her suit to respond. "Go ahead, sir." 

"Where are you?" he asked urgently.

"Still two decks away from the docking hatch, but so far no problem."

"I've got you on my scanner. I'm coming to meet you."

"No! Get yourself to the shuttlepod. I'll be right—"

The comm line went dead.

"Ensign?" shouted Reed into the silence. "Stephanie!" Getting no response, he hailed Trip. "I've lost contact with Ensign Cormack," he said.

"Can you find her?" asked Trip. 

"Yes." He was fighting to keep his balance in the rapidly collapsing corridor. "I know her location. I've just got to get there."

"You need a hand?"

"No. Just be ready to get out of here as soon as we reach you."

"Hoshi and I are back in the shuttlepod. We'll be ready when you get here."

"Reed out." He was finding it increasingly difficult to navigate on the sloping floor. Finally, he gave up trying and deactivated the maglocks in his boots. Quickly and carefully, he maneuvered his way through zero-g to where sensors said he would find Ensign Cormack. Sensors were correct; she was just where he expected her to be.

It was an eerie sight. She would have been floating amidst the debris but for the maglocks' hold on the deck plating. She was clearly out cold, and there was damage to her EV suit. Including, he realized as he reached her, a long crack in the faceplate of her helmet. He could see a thin line of blood along the crack. Quickly, he released the locks on her boots and took hold of her.

"Reed to Tucker. I have her, but she's unconscious. I don't think she's breathing. We're on our way to you now."

"Better make it quick," Trip urged him. "This ship's about two minutes away from complete collapse."

"Understood."

*****

Hoshi pulled the airlock hatch shut and secured it behind them. "We're clear, Commander!" she called out.

Not bothering to respond, Tucker fired up the thrusters and blasted away from the collapsing alien vessel.

"How is she?" Sato asked, kneeling next to Reed and the unconscious Cormack.

"I don't know." He'd removed his own helmet and was just releasing the catches to remove Stephanie's as well. His hands brushed against blond hair, sticky with half-dried blood, as he carefully pulled off her helmet. "Help me get this off her," he ordered. He and Sato quickly removed Cormack's heavy EV suit. Malcolm pressed his fingers against her neck, searching for a pulse. "She's not breathing, and I can't feel a pulse. Get an oxygen mask while I start CPR."

Up on his knees, he began rhythmic compression against Cormack's still chest. Hoshi grabbed an oxygen mask from the emergency equipment, placed it over the unconscious woman's nose and mouth, started the air flow.

After two of the longest minutes imaginable, Cormack gasped, the sudden intake of air shocking her system and sending her into a spasm of coughing.

"Get the mask off!" shouted Reed. Hoshi pulled the mask away as Stephanie curled onto one side, her coughs punctuated by the choking, dry heaves of someone with too much air in her stomach. Reed held onto her until the spasms subsided and she relaxed back onto the deck.

He gestured to Sato who handed him the oxygen mask, which he carefully placed back over Cormack's face. "How do you feel?" he asked gently, once she'd taken several deep breaths. He moved the mask aside again so she could answer.

"Awful," she rasped in reply. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you knew."

She thought for a minute, lines of concentration wrinkling her forehead. "Not sure. Think a wall hit me."

"We're taking you back to _Enterprise_. Dr. Phlox will take care of you."

"Hurts."

"I know. You're going to be all right," he assured her.

*****

End Log 5  
_(Completed 18 Nov 01)_

Continued in Log 6


	6. Log 6

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** — Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 6**  
(This takes place immediately following _Log 5_, prior to the events of _Fortunate Son_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

On his way to the mess hall for breakfast, Reed briefly considered stopping by sickbay to check on Cormack. Then he remembered a comment she'd once made about not being much of a morning person. Combining that fact with the trauma she'd experienced on the collapsing alien vessel, he decided to wait until mid-day to visit her.

So, the first official order of business for the day was to present his mission report to the captain. Malcolm sat at breakfast going over the report one last time.

"Mornin', Lieutenant," said Trip. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, Commander," answered Malcolm, setting his datapad aside.

"Mission report?" Trip asked, sitting down and tucking into his scrambled eggs.

"Yes. Figured I'd best give it one more look before handing it in to the captain."

The Chief Engineer nodded his agreement, took a swallow of orange juice. "I sent mine just a few minutes ago. I don't usually like being there when he gets it, you know? Too much like being back in school. Especially since Hoshi and I don't know yet what, if anything, we actually managed to get from that alien computer."

"I trust you'll let me know if there's anything on their defensive systems and weaponry? Even damaged, it looked like quite a set up."

"You bet," Trip assured him. "I'm meeting with Hoshi at 0900 to work on it. So, how's Ensign Cormack doing?"

"I haven't been to see her yet this morning," Reed admitted. "After yesterday, I expect she could use her rest. Although, Dr. Phlox said last night she's going to be all right."

"That's good news. You really handled that well, you know. I was impressed; I bet the captain will be, too."

"I just did what needed to be done," said Malcolm, not meeting Trip's gaze. He wasn't overly comfortable with open praise—especially when the incident in question so easily could have gone the other way. "I'm planning to stop in and visit Cormack this afternoon."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it. I know I did when I was hurt."

A thrill of energy raced through Reed's body. He tried to shake it off, hoped it went unnoticed by his breakfast companion. Trying to play it cool, he joked, "Which time?"

Trip looked at him across the small table, and said sincerely, "Both." He continued, oblivious to the fact that Malcolm had all but stopped breathing. "It means a lot to know you have friends looking out for you. I'm sure Ensign Cormack'll feel the same way I did."

_Not exactly what I was hoping to hear,_ thought Reed, unable to avoid feeling a stab of disappointment. _You've no one to blame but yourself, you know. You can't expect him to read your mind, and you certainly wouldn't want him to, considering where it's been lately._

Aloud, he said, "I should get going. I've got a lot to do this morning."

*****

Reed spent the morning working on the modifications to the torpedo he and Cormack had opened up the day before. _Was it only yesterday?_ A lot had happened in barely twenty-four hours. But then, that was the way of it aboard _Enterprise_; it was something of an "all-or-nothing" routine.

By lunchtime, he was more than ready for a break. He set down the scanner he was studying and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. There was something he was missing, he knew, but he'd been staring at the problem so long he couldn't see what it was.

"Definitely time for a break," he said to himself.

Making a quick stop at the mess hall to grab a cup of tea, he headed to sickbay. He found Dr. Phlox working on something he didn't recognize or even want to know about. Phlox was very good at what he did, but Reed found it was best not to ask too many questions of the alien doctor. Better to let him treat you and then find out _afterwards_ what he treated you _with_.

"Hello, Doctor," Malcolm said.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," Phlox said, setting aside his current project. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to see Ensign Cormack, if she's up to having visitors."

"Certainly! She'll be glad of some company, I expect. Ensign Cutler brought her some mail earlier, but she's still having trouble with bright lights and focusing on small objects."

"Will that improve?" Reed asked, concerned.

"In a few days," the doctor assured him. "There's still some swelling behind her right eye from the blow to the head she took. It should dissipate naturally in a day or two."

"Good. Can I see her now?"

"Go right ahead, but don't stay too long. She's still weak, and I don't want her getting overtired." The doctor waved him through to Recovery.

The lights in the room were dim but not dark as he entered. Cormack lay on the bed. She looked to be asleep, but as he approached, her eyes opened and she looked at him.

"Lieutenant?" she said, squinting painfully.

"How are you?" he asked, stepping to the bedside so she wouldn't have to strain so hard to see him.

"Not great," she admitted, "but better. Thanks to you."

Reed gave a noncommittal shrug. He genuinely couldn't think of anything to say.

"I owe you my life," said Cormack.

"No, you don't," he said quickly.

"I'd be dead if you hadn't gotten me out of there and given me CPR. In my book, that's big check mark in the life-owing column."

"Just get better. That's all." He pulled over a chair and sat beside the bed. "Can you remember what happened?" he asked, curious despite himself. 

"No. Just the shipquake, then nothing until I came to in the shuttlepod. I'm not even sure what hit me."

"You said it was a wall," Reed informed her.

"A wall?"

Malcolm nodded.

"No wonder it hurt so much. Any word on when the doc's going to let me out of here?" she asked.

"What's your hurry? Have you got some big plans for the weekend?" he asked, gently teasing.

"Hardly. And you didn't answer the question."

"Dr. Phlox didn't say, but I got the impression it's going to be a few days."

"But I'm already going stir-crazy," the ensign complained. 

"I doubt you'd be any less stir-crazy in your quarters. You certainly don't think the doctor is going to release you to duty yet, do you?"

"No," Stephanie grudgingly agreed. "But at least in my quarters I can listen to music. You'd think the ship's designers would have been smart enough to put in a sound system or something else entertaining for when people are stuck here."

"Perhaps you can suggest it when they build the new model," Reed said, chuckling.

"I just might," she answered. She gestured futilely at the datapad on the bedside table. "Liz brought me a letter from my sister, but I can't even read it. It makes my head hurt to try."

"Then I recommend you don't try. Why don't you get some sleep? The time will pass more quickly."

"Can't sleep. Bored," she said a little petulantly.

"Thanks very much," Reed said in mock offence.

"That's not what—" Cormack began to protest, then caught the teasing smile on the lieutenant's face. "Just for that, do me a favor."

"What would that be?"

"Skim through the letter and tell me if it says who won the All-Star Game."

"All-Star Game?"

"Baseball. I want to know if the AL or NL won this year."

"I really don't think I should," Reed said hesitantly. "There may be something personal you wouldn't want someone else to see."

"Please, Malcolm?" Stephanie all but pleaded. "They played it over three weeks ago, and I don't even know which of my guys started the game!" She gave him her most pathetic look, which was greatly enhanced by the bandage above her bruised right eye.

Reed considered her expression for a moment. "You're doing that just to make me feel guilty," he accused.

"Only if it works," she assured him.

In the end, he set his mug of tea on the table and reluctantly picked up the datapad. He was skimming through the screens when Dr. Phlox came in holding a portable medical scanner. He ran it slowly over Cormack as he spoke. "I hope Lieutenant Reed isn't wearing you out."

"Rather the opposite," muttered Reed, not looking up from the datapad.

Phlox gave a small chuckle, reviewed the information from his scan. "Head hurting again?" he asked Stephanie.

"A little," she admitted.

"You should tell me when you're in pain," he chided her gently. He crossed to a cabinet and picked up a hypospray.

"It's just a little headache."

"You'll recover more quickly if your body can concentrate solely on healing. Even a 'little headache' can be a distraction to your system." He placed the hypospray against her neck, released the drug. "This will relieve the pain, but it may also make you a bit sleepy. If it does, don't fight it. And you," he turned to Reed, who looked up at him, "see that she does as she's told."

"I have a hard enough time of that when we're on duty," said Reed wryly.

"As if!" protested Cormack.

Phlox chuckled again. "If I didn't know better," he said, "I'd say you two sound like an 'old married couple'. Lieutenant, please don't take too much longer here. Ensign Cormack does need to get more rest." He left the room, blissfully unaware of the reaction his statement had made on the remaining two occupants.

There was an awkward pause as each was caught up in his or her own thoughts, unaware that they were thinking almost the same thing.

Eventually, desperate to break the silence, Cormack said, "Did you find it?"

"What?" Reed looked at her, startled.

"The game. Did you find who won?"

He turned his attention back to the datapad screen. "Not yet. I've seen 'baseball' a couple of times but Hang on. Here it is. The American League won."

"Good! What was the score?" she added through a yawn.

He scanned down the page a little farther. "Two to one in the tenth inning."

"Hmm. Either the bats were dead or it was one hell of a pitchers' battle. Who got the win?"

"Sorry?" He was unsure if it was his own ignorance about the game or the drug affecting Cormack, but he was fairly certain he'd just answered that question.

"Pitcher. Who was the winning pitcher?" She yawned again, her eyelids drooping.

"I'd better go," Malcolm said, setting the datapad back on the table and picking up his tea.

"No, wait, I jus' wanna know" she trailed off, and Reed wondered if she was already asleep.

"I'll come back later and give you all the details, all right?" he said softly.

"Mmm. Okay. Long s'we won," murmured Cormack, her words slurring more and more. She fought unsuccessfully to keep her eyes open as she said, "Thanks f'r checkin' up on me. 'Preciate it" She was fading fast, and Reed could only catch a few words, but what he caught stunned him rigid. "make a good boyfriendC'mmander Tucker's lucky" But the sentence went unfinished as she drifted off to sleep.

Malcolm sat perfectly still, both hands clenched around his mug of tea. His mind was racing. What did she mean? What did she know? Was she even aware of what she was saying? Worst of all: was it _that obvious_? He'd told no one but Dr. Phlox about his feelings toward Trip, and he knew the Denobulan wouldn't have said anything. If Cormack had figured it out, how long would it take for the other people he worked with daily to realize?

Something Trip said to him just after _Enterprise_ had left Terra Nova popped into his mind: "So much for secrets on board a ship like this," Tucker had said. "Sooner or later, there just aren't any left."

Deciding there was nothing to be done about it at the moment he stood quietly, moved the chair back against the wall where he'd found it, and left the room. The lights of sickbay were harshly bright after the dim light of Recovery. He took a swallow of his now tepid tea, blinked a few times as his pupils adjusted.

"Is she asleep?" asked Phlox.

"Yes. Maybe she'll sleep better now knowing who won the All-Star Game," he said.

"Hmm. Baseball," Phlox said dubiously. "I tried following it for a time, but I just couldn't make sense of it all. Particularly something called the 'infield fly rule'."

"Not really my sport, either," Reed agreed with a shrug. "Yet somehow I've agreed to bring her the details of the game next time I stop in."

"That's what friends are for, as I believe the saying goes."

"I suppose so." 

"And how are _you_ doing, Lieutenant?"

"Fine, thanks," Reed said, his internal warning senses going on alert.

"No ill effect from yesterday's adventure?"

"No. No complaints. Excuse me, Doctor," he said, readying his escape. "I really need to get back to work. And apparently, I have a bit of baseball research to do as well." He gave the Denobulan an ironic smile before slipping out the door to safety.

*****

Captain Archer was sitting at his desk studying his computer screen when the ready room door chimed. "Come in," he called.

The door opened to reveal Lieutenant Reed. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Come on in, Lieutenant. Shut the door."

Reed did as ordered, stood at attention in the center of the room.

"At ease," said Archer.

The lieutenant shifted to the marginally more relaxed stance.

"I've reviewed your mission report. It's interesting reading, very concise. So concise, in fact, I almost feel it'sincomplete."

Reed's expression didn't change as he asked, "Incomplete, sir?" He thought he knew where this was going, but had no desire to help it along.

"Yes. What I'm wondering is, am I missing a page? or did you make no mention of saving Ensign Cormack's life?"

"No, sir." He was right. He'd been avoiding this topic all day, first with Commander Tucker at breakfast, then with Cormack, herself, and again just a short time ago with Dr. Phlox. He had a feeling he wasn't getting out of it so easily this time.

Archer waited for more. When it didn't come, he said, "No, sir? No _what_, Lieutenant?"

"I didn't save Ensign Cormack's life, sir."

"Really? Because I have two other reports here that say you did."

Reed looked directly at the captain for the first time since entering the room. This was a man he trusted. If there was anyone aboard he could talk to about this, it was Archer. The question was, did he really want to talk about it? He made a decision. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

The captain didn't know what was coming, but he was certainly curious to find out. He regarded his Tactical Officer, realized that after nearly three and a half months aboard he knew little more about him than when he'd chosen him for the position. "Of course, Lieutenant." He hesitated to call him by his first name. His own instinct was to make the situation more casual, more relaxed, but he sensed from Reed this wasn't what he needed. He allowed the formality to continue.

"I can't be the one who saved Ensign Cormack's life, sir." Reed paused, took a steadying breath. "I can't be, because I'm the one who put that life in jeopardy."

_So that's it,_ thought Archer. He leaned back in his chair. "Why do you say that?" he asked, although he knew the answer from his own experience.

"I chose Ensign Cormack for the assignment. If I hadn't, her life would never have been in danger on that ship."

Archer chose his words carefully. "You're right," he said, and noted the quick look of surprise that crossed Reed's face. "She wouldn't have been in danger there, but she might have here." He could see Malcolm considering this, but the lieutenant said nothing. "Whoever attacked those ships might have reappeared and attacked _Enterprise_ while the landing party was away. Cormack might have been in the armory when a catastrophic malfunction caused her console to explode. Hell, she might have slipped getting out of the shower and hit her head." He paused, trying to gauge Reed's reaction, see if the younger man understood what he was driving at. He couldn't be sure; the Tactical Officer was well-schooled at the blank expression that accompanied the 'at east' stance. _Maybe_

"Every commanding officer eventually has to face the loss of a crewmember," he continued. "It's terrible, but it's inevitable. You can't let that potentiality cloud your judgement every time you assign someone to a mission. Be aware of the possibilities, and do your best to guard against problems. But know you can't control every variable, and you can't afford to second guess yourself."

Reed thought about what the captain said. It made sense. He knew it made sense, he'd just never had it put into words before. He felt a weight he hadn't known he was carrying lift from his shoulders.

"Understood," he said, finally.

The captain considered his Tactical Officer for a few more seconds, wondering if he really did understand. He certainly hoped so. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Reed snapped to attention once more, turned to go, but he paused at the door to look back over one shoulder. "Thank you, sir," he said.

Archer simply nodded.

*****

It wasn't real. Malcolm knew he was dreaming, and he didn't care. He wrapped himself in his dream, sank deeper

_into Trip's embrace. He ran his hands through his lover's hair, pulled him close in a passionate kiss. He wanted to touch every millimeter of him. Taste the salt and the sweet of him. They made love in the narrow bunk. Slowly at first, then passionately, almost frantically. Sweat-sheened bodies sliding, pressing against each other. Hands and mouths exploring every possibility. He sought solace and safety in the man he loved._

Afterwards, when both were too exhausted to rise again, they lay together, Malcolm wrapped in Trip's arms, his head pillowed on the engineer's strong chest. He closed his eyes, listened to the steady, comforting beat of Tucker's heart. Trip ran a hand through Malcolm's sweat-dampened hair, and Reed sighed contentedly. Gently, almost reverently, his fingers brushed across Trip's chest and belly, absently tracing the architecture of his ribs.

"Feeling better?" murmured Trip tenderly.

"Mm-hmm," agreed Malcolm, not yet ready for articulate speech.

"You believe again?"

"Yes."

For once, Reed woke feeling refreshed rather than frustrated from his dreams. He rolled to one side, peered through the dark at the bedside chronometer. It was still over three-quarters of an hour until his alarm would go off, but he was awake and feeling good, and he decided to get up.

"Computer, cancel alarm."

As he stood under the hot shower, he thought about the previous two days. _Enterprise_ had almost lost a crewmember. A woman from his own team. A friend. The captain had put the incident in perspective for him. For his conscious mind, at least. He hadn't realized how deeply the near miss had affected him until his subconscious asked, in the voice of Commander Tucker, if he believed again. And his own answer: Yes. He believed again that he was alive. His dream that morning had been about more than simply sex. More, even, than love-making. It was a reaffirmation of life, of being alive. The thought was almost too much, too deep for so early in the morning. But it was true nonetheless.

He dried himself off, wrapped his robe about him, and headed back to his quarters to shave and dress. _After all,_ he reminded himself, _you have a baseball game to research._ He smiled at the thought, then remembered something else from his visit with Cormack: the words "boyfriend" and "Commander Tucker". His smile quickly faded. It was going to be a long day.

*****

End Log 6  
_(Completed 21 Nov 01)_

Continued in Log 7


	7. Log 7

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** — Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 7**  
(This takes place shortly after the events of the episode _Fortunate Son_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, personal log: I've delayed the inevitable long enough. Although in all fairness, it wasn't entirely my fault. I had help from the Nausicaans and the crew of the _Fortunate_. Despite that, I've managed to gather the information I need. That was actually the easy part. It's knowing I have to deliver it to Ensign Cormack that's worrying me.

"Part of me wants to let the matter lie, but the responsible, adult part knows it's not an option. Stephanie's comments the other day, no matter what effect Dr. Phlox's painkiller was having on her, were too close to home. I need to find out what she knows, and what she _believes_ she knows, and set the record straight…as it were." He shook his head at the unintentional pun. "Computer, end log entry."

Finding the information on the baseball game had been easier than he'd anticipated. While sporting events weren't high on Starfleet's list of important news topics, he'd discovered an engineering crewman who's nephew diligently sent any and all baseball news he could find to his uncle on board _Enterprise_. So, as Reed approached sickbay, he had in his hand a datapad containing the text of two of the more in-depth newspaper articles about the 2151 All-Star Game, including the fine-print stats on all the players. He'd read the articles and, aside from the many abbreviations, they had made a reasonable amount of sense. The stats, on the other hand, were nothing _but_ abbreviations; he decided to leave it to Cormack to sort them out.

"Good morning, Doctor," he said as he strode into sickbay.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Phlox replied amiably.

"Is Ensign Cormack up for a visitor?"

"Please." The Denobulan gave him a slightly desperate smile. "Any distraction you could provide would be appreciated. She's a…charming woman, I'm sure, but between you and me," he added conspiratorially, "she's an insufferable patient."

Malcolm had to smile. "I have something that should keep her occupied for a little while," he said, holding up the datapad. "All-Star Game," he explained at Phlox's inquiring look.

"You know you may have to read it to her?"

"I guessed I might, so I familiarized myself with the text. Hopefully, it won't go too badly."

"Then be my guest," the doctor said emphatically.

Recovery was better lit than the last time he'd visited, although it was still darker than the garishly bright sickbay. Cormack spotted him the instant he entered the room.

"Malcolm!" she exclaimed. She was half-reclined on the bed, a datapad on her lap. "Thank the gods! I'm going nuts in here. Tell me you're here to say Dr. Phlox is releasing me from this purgatory."

"No such luck, I'm afraid," said Reed, pulling up a chair. "How's the eye?"

"Getting better. It took half the morning, but I finally got through the letter from my sister. Of course, part of that is her overly-wordy writing style."

"I suppose you won't be interested in this, then." He waved the datapad he carried nonchalantly in the air.

"What is it?" the ensign asked, suspicious.

"Just two articles recounting your All-Star Game. Nothing important."

"Oh! Gimme!" she cried, reaching for it, only to have him snatch it out of reach. "Tease! Hand it over!"

"I don't know," Reed taunted, giving her a mock concerned look. "Perhaps I should come back later when you're less agitated."

"I wouldn't _be_ 'agitated' if you gave me the damn datapad," she argued.

"The game took over three hours to play. I expect it'll take you that long to read these."

"Then let me get started!"

"Well, I _was_ going to offer to read them to you, but if you're going to take _that_ attitude, maybe I'll just leave this for you to struggle through by yourself."

"No, no! You could read it to me! I'll be good."

Malcolm laughed. "Promises."

"Just let me get comfortable," Cormack said. She settled herself back into the bed, closed her eyes and declared, "Lay on, Macduff!"

"You've got your characters confused," said Reed, playing on her Shakespearean reference. "Macduff killed Macbeth. Malcolm succeeded him as king. Remember that."

She opened her eyes and gave him a disdainful look. "I am _not_ calling you 'your majesty'. Not even on duty," she deadpanned back. "You going to read that now, or what?" 

Malcolm grinned and began to read. He was glad he'd taken the time to go over the articles once already. Foreknowledge made it that much easier to slog through all the unfamiliar terminology. Occasionally, Cormack would stop him and ask him to read a sentence or two again. "To get it clear in my head," she explained.

Reed hadn't seen anyone so excited about anything since the expedition to the Akaali homeworld. Stephanie's face held the same look of thrilled anticipation that Trip's had when _Enterprise_ spotted the Akaali's clipper-style ship. The thought of Trip reminded him of his other reason for being there, and he stumbled over what he was reading. "Sorry," he said. He backed up a little and continued.

Cormack seemed inordinately delighted when she learned that not only had her team's closer pitched the last inning, but her team's second baseman had driven in the winning run on a two-out double into the left field corner.

"That's my Mac!" she declared proudly. "Best second baseman in over a hundred years! Did you know he had ninety-five RBIs going into the All-Star break?"

"I take it that's a lot," said Reed.

"League leader," Cormack assured him. "May even be a league record, but don't quote me on that. I'd have to check."

"There are some player statistics here as well, but I thought I'd leave those for you to peruse at your leisure."

"Gods know I have enough of that. Dr. Phlox didn't happen to mention—?"

"No. Sorry."

"I feel like I've been here for weeks!"

"My calculations put it at three days."

"You're so helpful," said Cormack flatly.

"That's my thanks for bringing you this riveting sporting news?"

"Sorry," she answered contritely. "Where'd you get it, anyway?"

"Crewman Kumata's nephew."

"Oh. Okay." She didn't bother to ask for a explanation. "I'll have to remember that next time I need a baseball fix and my sister's behind schedule. At least she had the decency to send me the league standings. We're still in first place in the AL, in case you were wondering. So, what have you been up to?" she asked. "I know a little of what went down with the Nausicaans and the _Fortunate_, but you were there, right? Did that freighter captain actually set you adrift in a leaking cargo hold?"

Reed considered for a moment. It was another opportunity to stall, to avoid what he'd really come here to talk about. He took a deep breath and said, "He wasn't the captain. And, actually, there's something else I want to discuss with you."

Cormack tensed visibly. "What's wrong?"

Reed was slightly taken aback. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting—not that he was entirely sure what to expect. "Nothing's wrong," he said unconvincingly.

"You're sure? Because I've heard that opening line before, and it rarely bodes well. If we were dating, I'd expect you to dump me now."

"No, nothing like that," he tried again to reassure her. "It's just… There was something you said the other day, and I wondered what you meant by it."

Cormack fought back a wave of panic. What had she said? She desperately hoped it wasn't anything about her erstwhile crush on the lieutenant. That infatuation had changed to friendship, and she was glad. The last thing she needed now was for Malcolm to find out about it. She couldn't remember saying anything unusual or overly personal, but with the drugs Dr. Phlox had given her, she couldn't be sure.

Tentatively, she asked, "What'd I say?"

She looked as apprehensive as Reed felt. "I couldn't really hear it all," he started. "You were falling asleep, and I couldn't…" He fumbled for the right words, came to the conclusion there weren't any "right words."

"Oh my gods. Whatever it was, I'm sorry. I take it back. It was the drugs," she babbled, nervously.

"Calm down. It's all right." He looked at her. "You don't remember any of this do you?"

"No," she admitted, unable to look him in the eye.

It was an out. He really wanted to take it, but he couldn't. "You said something about someone being a good…" He was reluctant to use the term, but it was what the ensign had said. "…'boyfriend'." Cormack paled visibly. "And then something about Commander Tucker?"

"Shit. I'm so sorry. That was out of line. Your personal life is none of my business. I shouldn't have said that, even _with_ the sedative. My mouth just must've run away without my brain."

"Wait. Calm down," he said, again. "It's okay. I just… I need to know what you meant."

"I… No. It's none of my business," she repeated. "I don't usually talk in my sleep, I swear. I—"

"Stephanie," Reed said firmly. Cormack shut up. "I don't want to have to ask again. Please."

"Geez," she sighed. "This is really embarrassing. You were being so nice, I just thought…" Now or never, she was going to have to admit it. "I just thought you must be a great boyfriend. I mean, if you'd go to all this trouble for a friend, right? I just think Commander Tucker is really lucky to have you as his partner." 

Malcolm fought to keep his voice steady, neutral. "Why do you think Commander Tucker and I are…involved?"

Cormack didn't know what to say. It was the last thing she was expecting from the lieutenant. On one hand, she was relieved he wasn't angry. On the other hand, had he been upset with her, she'd have understood why and known how to deal with it. This, though… This wasn't at all what she had anticipated. "What do you mean, why? You are, right? I mean, the way you reacted when he was hurt last month… I figured… I thought…" Looking at the expression on Reed's face, she suddenly realized her error. "Shit. I shouldn't have thought. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You're not entirely wrong."

"Still, I should have kept my nose out of it. Sorry."

"Stephanie, stop apologizing." Maybe it was better this way. Maybe having a friend to talk to about it would make it easier. And maybe he was fooling himself because he was tired of dealing with this alone. Whatever the result, he decided it was worth a try. "You're right about my feelings for Trip. You're simply not right about his reciprocating them."

"What?" she demanded, immediately on the defensive on behalf of her friend. "What the hell's wrong with him? How can he not—?"

"Stephanie!"

She shut up, again. Her mouth opened, but she swallowed the apology before it could escape.

"Thank you." Malcolm thought a moment, deciding how much he was willing to tell her. "He doesn't know," he said, finally. "In fact, you bring the total number of people in on this little secret up to a whopping three. Dr. Phlox knows," he added at her puzzled look.

"That's not what I'm wondering," she said. She considered carefully before continuing. Admittedly, her own infatuation with the lieutenant had blinded her for a while, but once she'd realized he was gay and in love with Tucker, she'd also realized the signs had been there all along: his reaction when they brought the injured Chief Engineer back from the N-class planet; the way he'd leapt at the call from Phlox that night in the mess hall; the way she'd seen him look at the commander when he didn't think anyone noticed. It was all right there. "How can he not know?" she asked, finally.

It was Malcolm's turn to look puzzled. "Because I haven't told him."

"But…" She quickly thought better of what she was going to say. Somehow, she didn't think her pointing out how obvious his feelings were to anyone aware enough to look would help any. "Why not?" she said instead.

"There are a lot of answers to that question. Where do you want me to start?" he joked dryly.

"Wherever you want," answered Cormack sincerely. "But, seriously, Malcolm, if you love him, don't you think he should know?"

Reed froze. Love? He'd never used that word, not consciously. "I didn't say that," he protested.

"You said you have feelings for him, I know. I also know _you_. There's a saying, I think it's Arabic: 'Love, pregnancy, and riding on a camel cannot be hidden.'"

"What are you saying?" He looked suddenly tense, like a cornered animal ready to bolt.

"I'm saying that, sooner or later, you're going to slip. You'll do or say something you can't just dismiss as friendly concern or platonic affection. Then what?" She looked at him, concern in her hazel eyes.

"I need to go," Reed said, rising abruptly. 

"Malcolm—" Cormack reached out a hand to stop him, but he moved away quickly.

"I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"Wait, please—" But it was too late; he was through the door and gone. Stephanie lay back against the pillows, cursing her poor handling of the situation. He was her friend. He'd shared a huge secret with her. And what had she done in return? Sent him scurrying for cover. "Well done, Cormack, you big idiot. Some friend you are."

*****

In the nearest lift, Reed was having similar thoughts. _Bloody buggering hell. That went splendidly. You're a git, Malcolm. A prize-winning git,_ he berated himself vehemently. _She's your friend, for god's sake, and what do you do? The first time she tries to help you, you go running for cover._

The lift doors opened, and he stepped out, heading for his quarters.

"Malcolm!" someone called out.

Yanked out of his thoughts, Reed stopped in his tracks and looked around. At that moment, Mayweather caught up to him.

"Just the man I wanted to see," the helmsman said eagerly.

"Hallo, Travis," said Reed, shoving his angry thoughts aside and putting on his best 'friendly-professional' voice. "What can I do for you?"

"You got a minute? I need to ask you something."

The last thing Malcolm wanted right then was to play Q&A. He'd asked and answered enough questions in sickbay in the last half-hour to keep his brain spinning for the next twenty-four. Still, maybe Travis was being honest in his estimation of only needing him for "a minute." _Right. And T'Pol will be performing a stand-up comedy routine at dinner tomorrow night,_ he thought caustically. "Sure. What's up?"

"You headed to your cabin?" asked Mayweather.

"Yes." _Bloody hell. _Now_ what?_

"It's just, I think it'd be better if we talked in private."

Reed's blood ran cold. He hoped against hope this wasn't what he thought it was. _How damned many people know about this?_ he wondered. _And am I going to have to have a heart-to-heart with every bleeding one of them?! I should just make an all-hands announcement over the ship's comm system._

Silently, he led the way to his quarters. He keyed in the unlock code and ushered Mayweather inside. He sat in the only chair, hoping the ensign would pick up the hint that he didn't want this to be a long conversation. "All right," he said. "Shoot. What's on your mind?"

Mayweather fidgeted for a moment, eyes scanning the room for anywhere else to sit. Finding none but the bed, he remained standing. Reed, for his part, was trying to keep a friendly expression on his face. It wasn't fair for him to take out his frustration on Travis just because the young man had hideously poor timing.

Finally, Travis spoke. "It's about Ensign Cutler."

_Okay. _Not_ what I was expecting._ "What about Ensign Cutler?" Reed asked.

"You're not…interested in her, right?"

This was so out of left field he wasn't sure what to say. (The random thought ran through his mind that the ages-old saying was probably a baseball reference.) "Interested in Ensign Cutler?" he repeated, stalling.

"Right." Mayweather looked at him nervously. "I mean, I got that impression. Before. You said… I mean… I know I'm the one who's been pushing you to ask her…"

Malcolm wanted to laugh. Instead, he sat there stoically listening, his arms crossed over his chest. The mischievous—and admittedly slightly vengeful—part of him was enjoying watching his friend squirm. He wondered what had finally convinced Travis that he had no desire to date Ensign Cutler. He'd said so on many occasions in the past month, ever since that evening in the mess hall when Mayweather claimed she had been "checking him out."

Travis continued to babble. Reed doubted he'd completed a single sentence in the last two minutes. Finally, the lieutenant relented. "Travis, if you want to ask her out, go ahead. You don't need my permission."

"Really? You don't mind? It's just, I didn't want to step on anyone's toes, you know? In case you _were_ interested in her. After all." Mayweather looked at him a little sheepishly. "It's silly, I know, seeing as you and Ensign Cormack are together. But I wanted to make sure."

For the second time that day, Malcolm was stunned into silence. It took his brain a moment to codify what Travis had just said. When it did…

"_What?_ Where did you get _that_ idea?" he demanded.

"Hey, it's cool," Travis said reassuringly. "I know you're kind of keeping it quiet. Both on the Tactical Team and all that. Don't worry, though. I won't say anything to anyone."

"We're not together!" protested Reed, standing. It was almost too much. His day had gone from absurd to surreal. One more step and he was afraid he would enter the realm of the existentialists and be lost forever. He had to stop this here and now. "Cormack and I are not dating, seeing each other, involved, or any other euphemism you care to use. She's a friend. That's all."

"Sure." Travis gave him a knowing smile. "Whatever you say. I gotta go. Thanks." He left, leaving Reed fuming in impotent silence.

"Sod a dog," he cursed, sitting heavily. "Could this day possibly get any more bizarre?"

*****

Several hours later, he discovered it was the wrong question to ask. 

Reed finished up his workout, made a quick stop at his cabin for a robe and fresh towel, and headed for the showers. Trip found him on his way there. "Hey, Malcolm," the Chief Engineer said. "Got a minute?"

_Déjà vu,_ thought Reed, then amended, _only better._ "I'm on my way to the shower, actually." _You could join me?_ his mind added hopefully.

"That's okay. We can walk and talk."

Reed resumed his journey, but at a decidedly more leisurely pace. Trip strolled beside him.

"I stopped by sickbay to see Ensign Cormack," Tucker said. 

"Oh?" Reed replied noncommittally.

"She's looking a lot better than when we brought her in."

"Yes. I expect she'll be out of there in another day or two."

"Yeah. She said you'd been by earlier." Trip said, hesitantly, "She seemed kind of upset about something."

"Really? She was fine before." _Before she tried to be a friend, and I took off like a scared rabbit._

"I wondered if you might know what was up. It's none of my business…" he began.

_How many times have I heard _that_ today?_ wondered Reed.

"…but did you two have a fight about something?"

"No." _Not technically._ "I read her some news from home, and we chatted for a bit," he offered. It wasn't _all_ of the truth by far, but it _was_ true. The two men reached the crew shower room and entered.

"Huh. Well, that's good." Tucker sat on a bench, and Malcolm sat not far off.

"Did she say what was bothering her?" Reed asked, unwrapping the cloth tape from his hands and feet.

"Nope. It wasn't really anything she said. I just got the impression she thought you were…I don't know, mad at her or something." 

Malcolm stood, tossed the wad of used tape into a trash chute, and stepped into one of the shower cubicles. He shut the door, draped his towel over it. He hung his robe on a hook and began to undress, dropping his sweaty workout gear on the bench.

Trip continued. "Now, I know I'm not your C.O., but I don't like people under me fighting with each other, you know?"

_Under you, on top of you, standing, sitting, kneeling…_ Reed's mind wandered. He turned his back to the door, not wanting to share the visible effect of his thought process. Sure, the plexiglas was frosted, but it wasn't a guarantee of concealment for a silhouette in profile. "I can certainly understand that," he said.

"So, is there something…going on?" asked the engineer reluctantly. "Maybe I can help. I know it's tough trying to have a relationship with someone under your command—"

"I can assure, Commander," Reed said quickly, "it's nothing like that."

"It's not?"

"No," he said, emphatically. "I'm not sure where people are getting that idea about Ensign Cormack and me." _Although I have a guess._ "Unless you've been talking to Travis." Malcolm looked at Tucker over the shower door, no longer in any danger of disclosing hidden feelings. His desire to throttle Mayweather had quite counteracted any other urges.

Trip had the decency to look sheepish. "Well, he did say something…"

"Cormack and I are not dating," said Reed with finality. "And I'd appreciate it if you could say as much to Ensign Mayweather. I've spoken to him myself, but somehow I don't think he was listening."

"Sure." Trip gave him a conciliatory half-smile. "Guess his imagination sort of ran away with him, huh?"

"Something like that." Reed stepped down into the shower, keyed in the temperature he wanted, and hit the jet.

Tucker stood. "After all," he joked over the sound of the water, "you wouldn't want folks to think you were spoken for when you're not. Might put the kibosh on any potential plans you might have." He chuckled.

"If you had any idea…" muttered Reed.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, Trip," he called out.

"All right. See you 'round."

In the silence that followed Tucker's departure, Malcolm stood under the hot water, letting it pound the tension from tired muscles. _Great, _he thought, pumping out a dollop of shampoo from the inset wall-dispenser and scrubbing it into his wet hair. _I wonder if Stephanie's heard the latest rumor. One more thing I need to sort out with her—or at least warn her about._

By the time he finished his shower, he'd made up his mind: he would go back to his cabin to dress, and go immediately to sickbay. He knew wouldn't sleep well until he'd had another chance to talk to Cormack and straighten everything out. So, wrapped in his robe, his dark hair towel-dried and standing in random spikes all over his head, he gathered up his kit and towel and stepped out of the shower cubicle.

"Huh, I'd never have taken you for a white terrycloth kind of guy," said Cormack from her seat on the shower room bench.

"Stephanie." Malcolm wasn't sure what to say, so he stuck to the obvious. "You shouldn't be out of sickbay."

"I'd have guessed a dark claret color with a paisley pattern," she continued, ignoring his comment.

Determined not to be distracted, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Dr. Phlox released me."

Reed just looked at her.

"Okay, okay. I snuck out past the duty nurse. It was the hospital pajamas that gave me away, wasn't it?"

"You should go back before they notice you've gone. You don't want me to have to send a security team all around the ship looking for you, do you?"

"I need to talk to you. There's something you should know."

"If it's the rumor about you and me, I've heard it." He gave up convincing her to return to sickbay. Instead, he tossed his dirty workout gear and his towel into the laundry chute, and sat beside her.

"I'm sorry," said Cormack.

"Why? It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault, really."

"Still, I had to talk to you as soon as I found out. Liz stopped by and told me. I told her stomp on it," she assured him quickly. 

"I've tried to do the same." At her quizzical look, he said, "Travis," then added hesitantly, "and Trip."

"Damn it!" Cormack swore quietly. "Where do people get these ideas?"

"Well, with the two of us sitting here dressed as we are…"

"Good point. I should go." She rose.

"Are you sure you can make it back okay on your own?"

"I left a trail of bread crumbs."

"You know what I meant."

"Yeah. I'll be fine. No dizziness, no problems with depth perception or balance," she assured him. "I'm just a little stiff from lying around for the last few days," she added pointedly.

"All right. Listen," said Reed, standing also. "I was going to come see you after I got dressed. Go back to sickbay, and I'll see you there soon, okay?"

"Okay." She turned toward the door, but paused. "Liz said there's cheesecake in the mess hall. Bring me some? I haven't been allowed anything really good since we got back from the alien ship. 'Proper nutrition will speed the healing process,'" she said in a mediocre but identifiable imitation of Dr. Phlox. 

Malcolm smiled, chuckling. "All right. I'll do what I can."

"Thanks. You're the best." Just before slipping out the door, she added, "As I'm sure Trip will be happy to discover, when you're ready." She shot him a smile and disappeared.

Reed ran a hand through his now nearly dry hair, muttering, "That answers that. Barring a run-in with a troupe of ballet-dancing Klingons, this day has become as bizarre as it possibly could… I hope."

*****

End Log 7  
_(Completed 28 Nov 01)_

Continued in Log 8


	8. Log 8

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** — Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 8**  
(This takes place immediately preceding and during the events of the episode _Cold Front_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

The cabin was narrow, just wide enough for the two bunks running parallel to one another along each bulkhead and space between for a person to walk. Between the heads of the bunks, in the short wall, was a narrow door leading to the small lavatory the occupants of the cabin shared with the pair in the next cabin over. Above each bunk was a narrow shelf, each with a low lip to keep the few bits and bobs on them from sliding off.

The exterior bulkhead had one small window, while the interior held no decoration. Even after nearly five months, neither occupant felt the need to adorn it. At the foot of the bunk on the interior bulkhead was the cabin door and across from it, two lockers. The final items in the room were a desk with a computer console and chair that stood against the remaining wall where a small mirror hung.

Cormack was settled comfortably on her bunk under the window, pillows cushioning her pajama-clad back against the wall. A large, hard-cover book was spread open across her bent knees, and she was reading.

The cabin door slid open and her roommate came in. Liz flopped unceremoniously onto her own bunk, heaving a heavy sigh.

"Have fun at the movie?" asked Stephanie.

"Only if you count torture as a form of fun."

"I did warn you. Didn't I say it was wretched? That flick deserves to be professionally heckled."

"Yes. I knew what I was getting into. I have only myself to blame," Liz intoned. She rolled to one side and gave her bunk-mate a grin. "But it was worth it to spend the time with Travis."

"You two seem to be getting on quite well," said Stephanie. She slipped a marker into her book and closed it.

"Yeah."

Cormack looked at her love-smitten bunkie. "Just give me fair warning if you plan to bring him home for the night."

"Stephanie!"

"I'm only trying to be proactive. I don't want to be caught unawares one night and walk in on you two."

Cutler blushed to the roots of her honey-brown hair. "Geez, Stephanie, you gutter-rat. We haven't been going out _that_ long!"

"I'm just teasing," Cormack chuckled.

Liz looked at her. "No, you're not."

"Okay, I'm not. What can I say? _I'm_ not getting any, so I'm hoping my friends will."

"How generous."

"I'm a giver," grinned Cormack.

"What are you reading?" asked Cutler, deliberately changing the subject. She stood up, began undressing for bed.

"_Macbeth_."

"Don't you have to turn around in a circle and spit now, or something?"

"That's only if you say it in a theatre."

"Oh. So, what possessed you to read it?"

"Nothing, really. I just felt like reading some Shakespeare, and this one's the shortest."

"Uh-huh," grunted Cutler, disbelieving. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain British Tactical Officer, would it?"

"Liz, I told you. That little crush is long gone. Malcolm's a friend of mine. That's all, and that's the way I want it to stay. Besides, I'm totally not his type."

"But he's yours."

"How do _you_ know my type?"

"I'm only judging by past history."

"Well, don't," said Cormack firmly.

Liz pulled on her night-shirt, tugged her hair out of the collar. "Sorry," she said, giving her roommate an apologetic smile. "I guess I'm just having so much fun with Travis, I want you to find someone, too." She hung her uniform in her locker and pulled out a hairbrush. She leaned against the table, started brushing her hair.

"I appreciate the thought, but I'm fine on my own." Stephanie re-opened her book, searched for her place.

"Okay. So, what _is_ Lieutenant Reed's type?"

"Huh?" Cormack grunted, distracted.

"You said you're not his type. So, who is?"

"Com—" She stopped short, looked Cutler in the eye. "Couldn't tell you." _Gods, woman, pay attention to what you're saying!_ she scolded herself.

"Yes, you could," said Liz, not so easily dissuaded. "You were going to say someone specific, weren't you?"

"No."

"Liar."

"Liz, let it go."

"Is it a secret?"

"Yes. Satisfied?"

"No."

"You're going to have to be." Stephanie tried, again, to return to her book.

"Can't you give me a hint?"

"No!" She looked at her roommate, said sincerely, "Liz, I know you can keep a secret. You haven't told anyone about the crush I had on Malcolm, and I appreciate that. I'd trust you with any secret of mine, but this one _isn't mine_, okay?"

Cutler looked disappointed, but said, "Okay. I understand." She put away her brush and shut her locker. "You going to be up much longer?" she asked as she pulled back the covers of her bunk.

Stephanie sighed, closed the heavy _Complete Works of Shakespeare_. "No. I have to get up early, as usual." She stowed the book in a cubby under her bunk as Cutler shut off the lights. The only remaining illumination was the stars, slipping past at warp two.

*****

Reed lay back on his bunk, book in hand. He was tired enough he knew he could sleep, but he felt the need to clear the residue of that awful movie out of his head first. So he settled in with one of his favorites, lost himself in the earliest era of space-flight history. He always marveled that humans had managed to get to the moon with little more than rocket fuel and slide-rules, but if they hadn't, he wouldn't be where he was today. And a round trip from the Earth to the moon wouldn't now be an easy, routine trip.

Two hours later he was cursing himself for staying up so late. He'd lost all track of time while reading about Apollo 13 and its abortive attempt to reach the moon. It didn't matter how often he re-read it, the story always inspired him. Now, however, it was nearly 0200, and he needed to be on the Bridge first thing in the morning. Reluctantly, he put away the book and shut off the small, bed-side lamp.

"Computer," he yawned into the darkness, "increase alarm volume by two." He wasn't looking forward to the wake-up call.

*****

"Zariphean tea, hot."

"Late night, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm looked away from the drinks dispenser to see a smiling Ensign Cormack. "Not the kind you're thinking of, I'm afraid." He collected his steaming tea and stepped aside.

"That's a shame." Cormack placed her own mug under the tap, saying, "Café latté, double shot, extra hot." The steaming liquid poured into the cup. "Then why so bleary-eyed this a.m.?"

"Lost track of time reading. Had to do something to get that dreadful movie out of my head, or I'm sure I would have had the oddest dreams."

"That reminds me. I had the most bizarre dream last night." Stephanie retrieved her mug, took a careful sip of the foam-topped beverage. "Ahh," she sighed, gratefully. "It never ceases to amaze me that this machine can make such a good latté."

"It never ceases to amaze me that you can drink that stuff."

"Where I come from, it's a law," she joked.

"So, tell me about your dream. I didn't see you at the movie, so I assume it had nothing to do with 'killer androids.'" They found a table and sat.

"Fortunately not. It was well random, though. I was at the ballpark in Vancouver. The Orcas were playing the Giants for the World Series. For some reason, though, they were all wearing kilts. Anyway, despite the fact it was October, I was wearing a shimmery, black, spaghetti-strap evening gown under my Tommy Wilson baseball jersey."

"I'm sure it was a stunning combination," teased Malcolm.

"Truly. Wish I actually owned the dress, though. It was snazzy!"

"So what happened next?" He sipped at the strong, highly caffeinated tea.

"I'm not sure." She thought hard, slurped some foam off her latté. "Damn that's good. Um, I was at the park—I think we might have won, too, which would be incredibly cool—then suddenly I was on _Enterprise_, in the Armory. I was still wearing the gown, but not the jersey."

"Well, it's not as cold on board. You wouldn't have needed it."

"Funny," Cormack said dryly, returning Reed's playful smile. "So, I was in the Armory—where _you_ were, I don't know," she added in a mock accusatory tone. "Then, there was a power fluctuation of some kind. I think we started to lose main power. We were all running around, trying to save the vital systems. Not easy in stiletto heels, I have to tell you. Then, for some reason, everything just cleared up. Power came back on. Including disco lights, a mirror ball, and loud music."

"That better not be some sort of premonition," said Malcolm.

"You don't think the Armory would make a good dance club?"

"You know that's not what I meant…although, no, somehow I don't think the Armory would be enhanced by the addition of a mirror ball and colored lights."

"Probably not," Stephanie agreed. She chuckled, glanced up over her latté. "Hey, Commander," she called to the recently arrived Tucker. "Come join us."

Malcolm's eyes widened as he glared at her. She simply smiled at him and returned her attention to Trip. "Good morning, sir."

"Morning, Ensign. Lieutenant," said Trip, giving each a nod and a smile. "Sure you don't mind my company? You two looked like you were discussing something important."

"Nope. Please, have a seat," insisted Cormack, gesturing to an empty chair. "We were just deciding whether a mirror ball would be a good addition to the Armory."

Trip looked at each officer in turn as he set his plate on the table and sat. "I beg your pardon?" he asked at last.

Seeing that Cormack wasn't going to explain, Reed was the one who said, "She joking, I assure you, Commander. It was in a dream she had last night. Cormack was just telling me about it. Frankly, I think she should go see Lieutenant Douglas and tell him."

"The psychiatrist?" exclaimed Stephanie. "Thank you, no. Besides, I thought he was studying the effects of extended space travel on humans. Since when does he want to hear about our dreams?"

"He sent an intra-ship message at the beginning of the month. New phase of his study, he said. Come on. Don't you want to know what he'd make of your dream?"

"Probably something Freudian," she said disdainfully.

"Not necessarily," Trip said. "I talked to him just the other day about a dream I had. It was actually kind of…helpful."

"Really?" asked Malcolm. "Are you going to share, or leave us wondering?"

Uncharacteristically, Trip blushed. "I'll take Option B," he said, not making eye contact with either one of them. Cormack, on the other hand, shot Reed a significant look, which he returned with a withering glare. She shrugged slightly in apology, as if to say, "I was only suggesting…"

Their little exchange went unnoticed by the engineer.

"I bet it wouldn't beat my World Series, disco lights and mirror ball, anyway," the ensign said to break the growing silence.

"So, you going to let her put up a mirror ball in the Armory?" joked Trip, not wanting to dwell on the topic of dreams. "You could hire the place out for parties." He looked at Malcolm over his glass of orange juice.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass on that proposition." _Although there are one or two others I'd like to suggest,_ he thought, _and I wonder if you might be more amenable to them than I suspected?_

As if reading his mind, Cormack said, "Well, I'm sure you don't need me to entertain you. I'd better get going, anyway. The boss hates it when I'm late." She swallowed the last of her coffee and stood. "If you gentlemen will excuse me?" She smiled first at Trip then Malcolm, who returned her look with an expression that clearly said, "I'll get you for this." Cormack simply smiled wider, raised an eyebrow that somehow managed to be both suggestive and innocent, and left the mess hall.

"She's a peculiar one," said Trip after she'd gone.

"You could say that," agreed Malcolm. "So, you're not going to share that dream with me? Must have been…interesting."

"You could say that," Trip echoed, again not meeting Reed's gaze.

The lieutenant realized he'd stepped over a line. "Sorry," he said sincerely. "It's none of my affair."

Tucker looked as if he was about to say something to that, but instead took a bite of toast.

*****

"Good morning, Ensign."

"Morning, Martinez," said Cormack, giving the tactical crewman a smile. "Anything exciting overnight?"

"Nothing," the stunning Puerto Rican woman said with an almost disappointed sigh. "Not even a short circuit to report."

"Log says we changed course a little while ago," Stephanie said, checking the report. "Any idea what's up?"

"_Si_. Captain Archer wants to check out a stellar nursery a few light years off our course."

"That should be fun. Well, fun for Stellar Cartography," Stephanie amended.

Martinez smiled. "At least it should provide a good light show."

"True. All right. If there's nothing else, you might as well take off. You're officially relieved."

"_Gracias_. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," said Cormack. 

The morning continued in a similarly quiet vein. It wasn't until the afternoon that there was any excitement.

Cormack punched up the ship's comm. "Armory to Lieutenant Reed."

"Go ahead," came the familiar British tones of the ship's Tactical Officer.

"Cormack here, sir. Is it true what I'm hearing about the visiting aliens touring the ship?"

"Yes, it is."

She couldn't be positive, but she didn't think he sounded any happier about it than she was. "Should I expect them here?"

"I'm not planning on it. However, if that changes, you can be certain I'll let you know."

"Thank you, sir. Cormack out."

On the Bridge, Reed was subjected to the scrutiny of Mayweather and Sato. "Was there something you wanted to say?" he asked at last.

"No, sir," said Hoshi and Mayweather at nearly the same time.

"Good, because I believe we already had this conversation…shortly before Ensign Mayweather attempted to declare war on the stellar nursery." He kept his face impassive, but inside he was chuckling. He did so enjoy yanking Mayweather's chain sometimes. _Fair revenge for that rumor he started about Cormack and me,_ he told himself. "They take those torpedoes out of your pay, you know." He bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud at the look on Travis's face.

Back in the Armory, Cormack and one of the crewmen were checking internal sensors. "I'm reading five alien lifeforms in Sickbay," said the crewman, "not including Dr. Phlox, that is."

"Where are the rest of them?" asked Cormack.

"Engineering."

"How many?"

"Eleven."

"That's only sixteen. I thought we had one more coming aboard."

"Maybe that was the transport's captain," the crewman suggested. "Sensors say he's still over on his own ship."

Cormack wasn't convinced, but it made as much sense as any explanation, so she let it go. "All right. Let me know if any of them start heading this way."

"Yes, ma'am."

It never became an issue. Despite Mayweather's attempts to navigate around the approaching storm, the ship was hit several times by plasma lightning, rocking _Enterprise_ like a torpedo barrage. 

Déjà vu hit Cormack almost as hard as the lightning hit the port bow. Lights in the Armory began to flicker and short out, and every computer console went dark. "Lock down the launch tubes!" Cormack heard herself shout as she raced for them. With as many weapons as the Armory contained, any number of things had the potential to go disastrously wrong and cause enormous damage to the ship, and she was determined to prevent any of them happening.

As quickly as it began, the chaos ended. One by one the lights came on and consoles flickered back to life. Stephanie looked around, trying to assess the damage. On the whole, it looked to be minimal. "You okay?" she asked the crewman who'd been helping her at the launch tubes.

The young man nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Everyone else in one piece?" she called out to the room in general, and was gratified by shaken but positive responses all around. "All right. Let's get this place cleaned up and see what needs fixing. Don't want Lieutenant Reed to show up and think we had a wild party in here." The sudden memory of disco lights and loud music washed over her. She shot a furtive glance toward the ceiling, gave a small sigh of relief at the lack of a mirror ball.

*****

A lot had happened that he wasn't privy to, and he wasn't happy about it. Bad enough the captain had given the visiting aliens nearly free run of the ship the previous day, but now he had invited them back to watch their "Great Plume of Agosoria" from _Enterprise_'s mess hall. And to top it off, there was something he wasn't being told. Reed couldn't be sure, but he'd gotten the impression the Captain, Trip, and T'Pol were keeping something from him. 

He hailed Trip in Engineering.

"Tucker here," came the Chief Engineer's voice.

"Commander, I'm reading a fluctuation in the main power grid. It appears to be centered in your area."

"I'm on it."

"It's drawing over twenty megawatts of power to the ship's sensors. Any idea what's causing it?" asked Reed, determined to get some information as to just what was going on.

"I said I'm on it, Lieutenant," Tucker said, more sharply. "Tucker out."

"Damn it!" cursed Reed as the connection terminated. This got him furtive glances from both Mayweather and Sato. He ignored them and hailed the Armory, thinking, _Fine. If the sensors are being enhanced, I might as well make use of the added power._

"Young, here. Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Ensign, how many aliens boarded the ship this morning to view the Great Plume?"

"We were told eleven were coming aboard, sir. Sensors indicated ten, plus Dr. Phlox."

"Was that eleven meant to include the doctor or not?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, sir."

"All right," said Malcolm, annoyed at the man's sloppiness. "I want you to keep an eye on our visitors. Let me know if anyone happens to stray from the mess hall."

"Understood, sir."

"Reed out."

He was rapidly going from annoyed to angry. How the hell did the Captain expect him to keep the ship secure when he was randomly inviting over unknown aliens? Not to mention the conspiracy of silence going on in Main Engineering. 

He schooled his expression into one of impassivity despite his growing frustration; he was determined not to provide a bad example to the two young ensigns. Best to keep his feelings on this matter to himself.

However, when his ship's internal sensors showed weapons fire in Engineering, all bets were off. He hailed Engineering, got no response.

"Reed to Armory."

"Young here, sir."

"Get a security team down to Main Engineering. I've picked up weapons fire, and I'm getting no response to hails."

"On our way, sir. Young out."

Reed chafed at being stuck on the Bridge. He knew his team could handle whatever was going on, but not actually knowing what was happening was driving him mad. Still, he had a job to do and, for the moment, his place was on the Bridge.

Then he got the call from Captain Archer.

"Mr. Reed."

"Yes, sir."

"We've got a Suliban loose on the ship. I want you to lock down every outer door and exit hatch. Post security teams on all decks."

"Understood." _Bloody hell, _he thought as he carried out the captain's orders. He hailed the Armory once again, relayed the command to post the security teams.

"Sir, exactly what are we looking for?" asked Ensign Cormack over the comm.

"A Suliban," he answered shortly.

There was the smallest pause before Cormack replied, "Understood, sir. Cormack out."

*****

When he turned the Bridge over to Mayweather this time, he wasn't kidding. On receiving the call from Commander Tucker to collect a security team and meet the Captain on B-deck, Service Junction 59, he didn't wait for T'Pol's imminent arrival. He put a hail in to security and immediately headed out. Two tactical crewmen, armed with pulse-rifles, met him on the way. The first handed him a phase-pistol, which he immediately took. 

Reed was examining the area in question when Archer arrived on the scene. "It looks like he slipped through here," he said, foregoing the pleasantries. "We could remove these conduits, but it would take some time."

Archer said nothing, but held up his right hand. A strange, metallic device was wrapped around the knuckles, and Reed heard a soft, electrical whine as the captain activated it. 

"Sir?" he asked doubtfully.

Archer put his hand out, and Malcolm's eyes widened as it appeared to pass through the bulkhead, circuitry, everything.

_Fabulous,_ he thought caustically. _Yet one more thing no one's bothered to mention._ Although, in all fairness, he had to admit the Captain looked about as surprised as he did. The two men exchanged a wary, uncertain look before Archer held out his left hand for Malcolm's gun. Still not pleased, but not entirely prepared to argue, Reed handed over the weapon. 

"Stay here," said Archer, then stepped through the wall.

Unable to help any other way, Reed continued to scan the area. He was relieved to read no drastic changes in the Captain's bio-signs. Still, the whole thing galled on him. He should be the one in there facing the Suliban. In his opinion, as a tactical officer he was expendable; but ship's captains were rare and should be protected. 

The ship rocked suddenly. He stumbled to the nearest comm-panel, hailed the Bridge.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded. "Are we under attack?"

"Negative," came T'Pol's even voice. "We're experiencing shockwaves from the protostar eruption."

"Understood." He closed the comm.

Knowing the intruder was trying to bypass the lock-outs for Launch Bay Two, he opened the comm again and hailed the team there.

After a brief exchange, he was as confident as he could be they would apprehend the intruder, if only they got the chance.

"We're completely locked out, sir. None of the override codes are working, and I've tried every trick I know," said the voice at the other end of the comm.

"Cut through the damned door if you have to," he ordered, finally, "but find a way to get in there!" 

Outside Launch Bay Two, Cormack looked at her team. "You heard the lieutenant," she said. "Griffith, go get a plasma torch." She checked the scanner she held, swore softly. "And make it fast!" she shouted after his retreating form. "There's someone in there!"

Fast as he was, Griffith wasn't quite quick enough. The warning alarm sounded just as he returned. The launch bay was being depressurized. There was no way they were getting in now, and the last thing they needed was to cut through to a room suddenly open to space.

"Shit!" swore Cormack vehemently. She checked the scanner again. Still one human life sign. _Whoever's in there, hang on,_ she thought, and for good measure sent out a prayer to the Goddess. It was a long way back to Earth; she just hoped she could make herself heard at such a distance. 

*****

Even when it was over, Reed was far from happy. He counted up the bones he had to pick.

_Daniels is dead._ That was at the top of the list. If he'd been informed of everything going on, he could have taken measures to protect the crewman. _Or whatever he was,_ he thought. But that was irrelevant. As far as Malcolm was concerned, Daniels had been a member of the crew—the crew it was his job to protect.

_Captain Archer was nearly killed._ This was a close second. He gave himself another mental kick for not arguing with the Captain the moment he realized he was going after the intruder. Sure, the strange device Archer had used to pass through the bulkhead looked too much like a variation on transporter technology for Malcolm's comfort. That wasn't what stopped him. Instead, he had allowed the Captain's expression to stop him. Archer had looked too determined to be put down. Reed had seen it before; he was certain he'd see it again. Next time, however, he was going to argue anyway.

_Silik escaped._ All in all, it wasn't adding up to a good day. Not just any Suliban, but Silik himself had been on board, and no one had seen fit to inform him.

That was what really gnawed at him. Neither Archer, nor Trip, nor T'Pol had said a word. While the last two irked him, it was the Captain's implied lack of faith in his skills as a tactical officer that he found truly infuriating. _He recruited me. Why the hell couldn't he trust me in this situation?_ he wondered angrily.

He put his irate thoughts aside as T'Pol and Archer came out of the captain's ready room. Archer, frankly, looked like hell. Part of him felt for his superior; part of him wanted to shout, "You'd be fine if you'd have just let me do my job!" As it was, he did and said nothing.

"Mr. Reed," said the captain, "assign new quarters to Daniels' roommate, and seal off cabin E-14. It's off -limits until further notice."

"Aye, sir." Malcolm rose and headed to the lift. 

Just before the doors closed behind him, he heard Archer add, "God knows what else is in there."

*****

Reed placed the coded maglock on the cabin door and turned the dial, sealing it. No one could get in now without the proper release codes, and until he informed the captain, he was the only one with those codes. He and the tactical crewman who had accompanied him as witness exchanged a nod before leaving the area, the heavy lock blinking it's small red light into the silence.

At the lift, Reed said, "You can go back to your duties, crewman."

"Yes, sir." The man gave a small nod and headed off about his business.

In the lift alone, Reed leaned back against the wall. He didn't bother to request a floor; a moment of peace was welcome. He wasn't looking forward to what he had to do. _How often,_ he wondered, _does an officer file a complaint against his Captain _to_ his Captain? And how does he do it without being either insubordinate or downright mutinous?_ Heavy thoughts to ponder overnight; he needed the time to calm down and organize his thoughts. He sighed. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get much sleep again that night. First, however, he had duty shift to finish out. He hit a button, requested the Bridge. 

*****

End Log 8  
_(Completed 5 Dec 01)_

Continued in Log 9


	9. Log 9

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** — Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 9**  
(This takes place immediately following the events of the episode _Cold Front_ and _Log 8_.)  
_Rating [PG]_

*****

Malcolm took a deep breath and pressed the door chime for the captain's ready room. Hearing Archer's muffled "Come in," he opened the door and stepped inside.

"Malcolm," said Archer. "Is it 1300 already?" The captain looked tired. Dr. Phlox had patched up the cut on his head, but he still appeared a bit worse for wear after the previous day's fight with Silik.

"Yes, sir," Reed said.

"Okay. I could use a break from this" He gestured hopelessly at his computer. "anyway. I hope I never have to write a report like it again. Suliban, Temporal Cold War. I don't want to imagine what Starfleet brass are going to make of it."

"No, sir."

Archer looked up at the lieutenant standing stiffly in the middle of the small room. He considered the younger man's expression, noted the serious set of his jaw. "What did you want to see me about?" he asked.

"I wish to file a complaint, sir."

"Complaint?"

"Yes, sir."

"Against whom?"

It was too late to back out now even if he'd wanted to. Reed had made up his mind, and he wasn't one to change it on the spur of the moment. "Against you, sir."

Archer was startled but, to his credit, kept his reaction minimal. He sat a little straighter in his chair, leaned his forearms on the edge of the desk, clasped his hands together. "Proceed," was all he said.

Malcolm had practiced several times before coming here. It had taken much of the previous evening to come up with wording he felt expressed what he needed to say but kept to the right side of the delicate line between "formal complaint" and "insubordination." When he reached the end of his short speech, he tried very hard not to hold his breath. He'd said what he needed to say; now, he had to stand there and wait for the hammer to fall. It was a long wait.

After a lengthy pause, Archer said, "You're right." Reed said nothing—he was too shocked to come up with a coherent response. The captain leaned back in his chair. "I should have informed you about Silik and Daniels at the same time I informed Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol. But hindsight is always 20/20, and there's nothing I can do to fix it now."

Reed continued to stand there in silence. He didn't know where Archer was going with this, couldn't even fathom a guess.

"It's possible that, had you known, you might have prevented Silik from killing Daniels. It's also possible you might have been able to capture Silik. However, we have no way to know, now, what the outcome would have been. I accept the responsibility for the actions I took." He considered his Tactical Officer who was looking more and more puzzled by the moment. Archer sighed. "Sit down, Malcolm."

Reed sat, still not quite sure what was going on. He'd expected to be dismissed (probably rather abruptly) after making his statement. He hadn't anticipated his Captain's exhausted tone and admission.

The two men looked at one another across the table. It was Archer who broke the silence. "You are the finest Tactical Officer in Starfleet. I have complete faith in your ability to do the job I recruited you to do."

"Then—" Malcolm stopped short. He wanted to ask why. Why hadn't he trusted him this time? But the Captain was the Captain, and he wasn't required to explain his actions to a subordinate.

Archer knew. It was the same question he would have wanted answered, were the circumstances reversed. "Why?" he said. "Why, instead of telling you at the beginning, did I tie your hands behind your back, but still expect you to do your job?"

Malcolm couldn't meet his gaze. It wasn't what he'd said, but it was a fair summation. He finally looked up, met Archer's gaze with his own. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Because I made a mistake. I'm a fallible human, just like everyone else on board. Well" He gave a wry, mirthless smile. "nearly everyone else." And then he said something that surprised Reed immensely: "I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"Sir," he tried to protest, "that's not what—"

"I know. But I needed to say it." There was silence as each man considered the officer across from him. "Was there anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Then you're dismissed. I'll see that your statement of complaint is included when I transmit my report to Starfleet."

"I" Reed briefly considered protesting, withdrawing his complaint—but only briefly. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain." He rose and left the room.

Now it was over, Reed felt a weight had been lifted off his back. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he headed across the Bridge to the lift. 

He was officially off-duty for the remainder of the day. He'd completed his own mission report; everything was running smoothly in Tactical. What to do with the rest of the afternoon? It was an easy choice and, as he stepped into the lift and the doors closed, he pressed a button and requested Main Engineering. They may have lost the device the captain had used to pass through the bulkhead, but they still had Daniels's holographic imaging device, albeit damaged. Most importantly, they had the sensor enhancements Daniels had installed to track Silik. Reed was itching to take a look. It didn't hurt that it was also an opportunity to spend time with a certain handsome Chief Engineer.

The lift paused in its descent to pick up a passenger. "Commander," said Malcolm, pleasantly surprised. "I was just on my way to see you."

"I was kind of looking for you, too," said Trip, a slight hesitancy in his tone.

Reed noticed the uncertainty. "Is something wrong?"

"Uhh Yeah." Unexpectedly, Trip reached out and pressed a button, bringing the lift to a halt between decks.

_I'm dreaming, again,_ thought Reed. _Or I'm hallucinating. Either way, it's turning out to be a better day than I ever could have hoped._ "Commander?" he queried.

"Ineed to apologize." Trip's tensed shoulders slumped a little. Embarrassed, he admitted, "I'm not real good at this, but I'm—I'm sorry about yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"The whole thing with Daniels and Silikand me snapping at you about the power fluctuation when you were only trying to do your job."

"There's no need to apologize. It wasn't up to you to tell me about Daniels or Silik. That was the Captain's decision."

"Yeah, and I bet he's kicking himself about it now."

Malcolm knew it was true, but it wasn't his place to reveal what had happened between himself and Captain Archer just minutes ago. Instead, he gave a small shrug and said simply, "You know him better than I do."

"Anyway, I was wound up with—well, everything, but I didn't have to yell. Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Reed said, not really knowing what else to say.

Trip seemed to relax a little at this. "I'm not big on discord among the crew, in case you hadn't noticed," he joked. "Especially when I'm the cause of it. I like a smooth-running team."

Malcolm gave one of his subtle half-smiles, remembered the conversation he'd had with the Chief Engineer not long ago on the self-same topic. "I seem to recall something like that."

Trip smiled in return. "Yeah," he agreed. "How's Ensign Cormack, anyway?"

"Couldn't tell you," Reed answered with a grin. Both men chuckled at the past misunderstanding.

Tucker reached for the release on the lift, saying, "You were headed to Engineering?"

"Yes. I thought you could show me around those sensor enhancements Daniels installed."

The lift resumed its downward journey. "I'll do what I can, but I'm pretty much lost, myself," admitted Tucker.

"I'm sure we can figure them out between the two of us."

"You haven't seen them yet."

Reed only had moments left before they arrived at their destination. "Trip, I was wondering," he began. His successful interview with Archer had given him the confidence boost he needed. "Were you planning on catching the movie tonight?"

"Hadn't thought about it," said Tucker with a shrug. "What are they running?"

"No idea, but it couldn't be worse than the last one. I thought I'd check it out. Care to join me?"

The lift slowed. "Sure. Why not?" The door slid open to their deck. "What time's it supposed to start?"

"2030 hours." They stepped out, headed down the short corridor toward Main Engineering.

"Great. You want to grab dinner beforehand?"

Malcolm's head swam. _Did he just say that? Stay calm,_ he ordered himself. "Sure. Sounds good. Say 1930 hours?"

"Sounds good," echoed the engineer, smiling. They arrived at Main Engineering. "Now, let's see if we can figure out just how these sensors work."

*****

Reed had no idea how he got through the rest of the afternoon. He and Tucker spent the time going over the strange new systems with a fine-toothed comb. Unfortunately, they had little success deciphering anything, but that didn't stop Malcolm enjoying the time with Trip. _Two of my favorite things in one place,_ he thought at one point, meaning the tantalizing new technology and the even more tantalizing engineer. _Throw in the opportunity to blow up a hostile alien vessel, and I'd call it a near-perfect afternoon._

They finally gave up for the day when, after four hours, they were little wiser than they'd been at the start.

"I don't think we're going to get any further today," sighed Trip. 

"Agreed," said Malcolm. "It's a shame, because we're not going to be able to keep these enhancements forever."

"I know. An extra twenty megawatts is okay for a while, but the power grid wasn't designed to handle it for long. Maybe we can give it another go tomorrow."

"Good idea. Right now, though, I think I'm going to go relax for a while. This was supposed to be my day off, after all," Reed added with a slightly ironic smile.

"I thought this _was_ what you did to relax," quipped Tucker.

"Among other things," Reed quipped in return. Not bothering to elucidate, he headed for the exit, saying, "Meet you at the mess hall?"

"1930 hours. I'll be there."

That was an hour ago. Now, Malcolm stood in the middle of his quarters, staring blankly at his options. "It oughtn't be that hard," he muttered. It wasn't as if he had a wide selection of civilian gear to choose from. Still, he was having a very hard time deciding what to wear.

The door chimed suddenly. "Yes?" he called out.

"It's Cormack, sir," came the voice from the other side. "You left a message for me to come see you?" She sounded uncertain, and he couldn't blame her; he'd never asked her to his quarters before.

"Yes, absolutely," he said with relief. He opened the door, ushered her quickly into his cabin.

Stephanie eyed him. He was dressed in his blues—and only the bottom half, at that—and his hair was damp and disheveled, as if he'd just washed it and only bothered to towel it dry. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?" she asked.

He looked at himself, grabbed a robe. "Sorry," he said, pulling it on.

Cormack had to laugh. "Malcolm, it's okay. Just tell me what's up?"

He looked at her almost shyly. "I need your help."

"My help?"

"Ihave a date."

"A date?" Realization struck her, and she smiled widely. "With Commander Tucker?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes. Although, to be quite honest, I don't know if he realizes it _is_ a date."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked him to join me at the movie tonight."

"Yeah?"

"And he suggested dinner before."

"Then he must know it's a date!" exclaimed Stephanie.

"I wish I shared your conviction. But—" he added to forestall any arguments "—that's not what I needed you for."

The ensign looked around the cabin, noted the limited array of civilian clothes littering its surfaces. "Can't decide what to wear, eh?"

Malcolm sighed resignedly. "No."

"Okay. You're in luck. I'm good at this—at least when it's for someone else. What were you thinking?"

"I can't think. That's why I called you."

She gave a snort of laughter. "Sorry, sorry," she said quickly at his indignant expression. "It's just so Never mind. Been a while since you had a date, huh?"

He gave her a look. "I have no intention of telling you just how long, so don't ask. Suffice it to say I'm a bit out of practice at the dating scene."

"Fair enough. Okay." She picked up the first shirt she saw, handed it to him saying, "No."

Malcolm hung it back in the closet.

"What you need is that delicate balance. You want to look hot without looking like you're _trying_ to look hot. Additionally, you want to be comfortable. So" She picked up another shirt, handed it to him. "again, no."

Reed started to protest that the shirt in question wasn't the least uncomfortable, but she was narrowing down his choices, so he kept quiet.

Stephanie looked at him intently. "Your eyes are blue, yes?" He nodded. She had a shirt in each hand, held first one then the other in front of him. "I love the black," she said at last, "but wear the blue. They both bring out your eyes, but the black will look like you're trying." 

He took the rich, cobalt blue shirt from her. Tossing his robe on the bunk, he pulled on the shirt, began to button it up.

"Which pants were you—?" Cormack began, caught the look on his face. "Right. Not thinking. Got it." She eyed her choices. "What color are your shoes?"

"Black. There." He pointed to them.

"Oo. Nice," she said appreciatively.

"When one doesn't have a lot, it makes sense to have quality stuff."

"A man after my own heart. Undo another button." He looked at her doubtfully. "Trust me." He did as told.

"I'm going to have to go with the black chinos, I think. Casual, comfortable." She handed him the pants, and he pulled them on. "Tuck in the shirt." He did. 

Malcolm sat in the desk chair, began pulling on his socks. Stephanie looked around. 

"Do you have a belt?" He shook his head, a stricken look on his face. "It's okay. You don't need one," she reassured him quickly, sorry she'd even mentioned it. "Shall I hang the rest of this back up?" she asked, to take his mind off her faux-pas.

"I can do that."

"It's no trouble. I worked as a dresser on a lot of community theatre shows back home. I'm used to cleaning up after people. At least your stuff is clean." She took the few remaining rejected items and began hanging them neatly back in the closet.

"Thanks." Reed slipped on his shoes, tied the laces. "I didn't know you did theatre."

"Tech only," she said emphatically. "Wouldn't catch me dead in front of an audience."

Malcolm stood. "What do you think?" he asked nervously.

She regarded him carefully. "Turn around," she instructed, circling a finger in the air. Reed turned a slow three-sixty for her. "Do this with your hair." She demonstrated by putting both hands up to her own head and making a quick, sharp, scrubbing motion. He imitated the action. "Almost," she said, surveying the result. She took a step towards him, hesitated. "May I?"

He nodded briefly. She reached both hands into his hair, working a bit of lift into it so the short spikes stood up in a variety of directions. "That's it. Very sassy," she said with satisfaction. "Take a look." She moved so he could see himself in the small mirror.

"You're sure it doesn't look like I'm 'trying'?" he asked uncertainly.

"Well, maybe a little. But it's not like you're _working_ at it."

"That is a very convoluted set of guidelines you have, isn't it?" he asked her.

"Absolutely."

"Does anyone understand it besides you?"

"What makes you think _I_ understand it?" At his slightly panicked look, she added, "Kidding!"

He eyed her dubiously. "Why do I doubt that?"

She gave him her best innocent look, and changed the topic once more. "What time are you meeting him?"

"1930 hours."

"Where?"

"The mess hall."

"All right. Then we have time."

"For what?"

"A little relaxation exercise."

"Excuse me?" He gave her another dubious look.

"It'll make you feel better, I promise. Now, sit down." Reluctantly, he sat in the chair once more. "Close your eyes. I'm not going to hurt you," she added at his wary expression. "Trust me."

He did as told, but before Cormack could say anything more, his eyes flew open again and his face fell. "What if I'm overdressed? I mean, what if he's still in uniform? I really think he doesn't know I—"

Stephanie cut him off. "Don't worry. He won't be."

"How can you know that?"

"I have my resources." But ask as he might, she wouldn't explain.

*****

Back in Engineering, Trip checked the time. _Shoot. I better get moving if I'm gonna meet Malcolm at 1930, _he thought. He climbed down the short ladder from the central station to the main deck, quickly ascended the stairs to the upper level.

"Commander?" a female voice called from several feet away.

He turned to face the approaching woman. "Ensign, what is it?"

"I wondered if you could take a quick look at this, sir," she asked, holding up a small item. He couldn't make out just what it was at that distance. "I know you're on your way out, but it'll only take a second." She jogged down the catwalk toward him. As she was about to reach him, she tripped. He caught her before she fell, but the item she held slipped from her hands and fell to the deck below.

"Heads up!" shouted Trip to anyone who might be passing below. He held the ensign by the shoulders as she steadied herself, her hands braced on his strong forearms. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, sir. I must have slipped." She stood back, brushed her dark hair out of her face, leaving a smudge of valve sealant on her cheek.

"You might want to clean that up," Tucker said, pointing to it.

"Thanks." She rubbed a sleeve along her cheek to clean it, looked at her hands. They were grimy with the sealant and so, consequently, was Trip's uniform. "I'm so sorry, sir," she said, again, indicating the stains on his sleeves. "I'm such a klutz sometimes."

"No problem, Ensign. I have others," he reassured her pleasantly. "Did you still need me to look at something for you?"

"Uh, I guess not, since it's probably pointless now." She glanced over the catwalk at what was now two smaller items lying on the deckplating. She gave him a somewhat abashed shrug.

"No one's hurt, and the ship's still running, so I'll assume there's no harm done."

"Thank you, sir."

Trip simply nodded, smiled, and left.

The young woman watched until the doors closed behind him. Brown eyes quickly scanned the area before she hurried to the nearest comm panel and opened a link. "Lawless to Ensign Cormack."

"Cormack here. Go ahead."

"You owe me one, my friend," she said quietly.

"You took care of it?"

"No guarantees what he'll change into, but he won't be wearing the uniform he's had on all day."

"Excellent! You're the best, Mae."

"I know. Now, are you going to tell me what's so important it was worth making my C.O. think I'm a clumsy, butter-fingered idiot?"

"No."

"Figures. You're buying me a drink tonight," she said decisively.

"How about popcorn and a soda at the flick?"

"You're on." Ensign Lawless closed the comm and gave one more quick look around. She headed down the stairs to retrieve the broken stem-bolt before someone noticed it and asked why in the world it was covered with valve sealant.

*****

Cormack was stationed in the mess hall by 1920 hours. After talking Malcolm through some simple yogic relaxation techniques, she'd left him to his own devices for the little time remaining until his date. The first thing she'd done after leaving him was contact Lawless and arrange the "accident" in engineering. Then she'd used the rest of the time to quickly change into civvies, herself, her logic being that the more non-uniformed people there were at the movie, the less conspicuous her friend's casual attire would be. Theoretically, he would then be more relaxed, at least subconsciously. It was a small thing and would probably go unnoticed, but that was the idea; any unobtrusive way she could find to aid Malcolm in his quest, she would use.

It wasn't long before Reed arrived. _That boy is terminally punctual,_ she thought. _Someone needs to teach him the concept of being "fashionably late."_ She shook her head slightly when she noticed he'd done up the extra button she'd told him to undo, but he still looked great. A surreptitious look around the room gratified her; he was drawing the appreciative glances of at least half a dozen people. _Huh,_ she thought, noting one young male crewman in particular. _Who knew?_

Malcolm gave the room a swift glance of his own. Not seeing Trip anywhere, he was frozen for a moment in indecision. Fortunately, he was saved by the entrance of the commander. Stephanie smiled. Mae had done her job perfectly. Trip was out of uniform and looking like a pin-up from a cowboy magazine in faded blue-jeans, a western-cut off-white shirt, and boots. He even had the obligatory leather belt with a shiny silver buckle. _Very nice._ She wasn't usually inclined toward the cowboy look, but even she had to admit it worked on Trip. 

She watched the two men pick up dinner and find an empty table in the corner. How she wished she were a fly on the wall to listen to their conversation. Yeah, she had to admit she was feeling nosy and curious, but she justified it by telling herself it was all in support of her friend's efforts.

"Hey, Stephanie," said Mae, surprising her from her observations. "Join you?"

"Sure. Sit," she replied distractedly.

Lawless sat across from her, setting her plate and glass on the table. "How was the rest of your afternoon?"

"Good, thanks. You?"

"Fine." She eyed Cormack closely, noting her distracted look, monosyllabic responses, and uncharacteristic lack of a uniform. "You look nice."

"Thanks."

"Special occasion?"

"Kinda."

"Uh-huh." _Time to play,_ thought Lawless. "What's the movie tonight?"

"Dunno."

"Your potato is on fire."

"Oh."

"Pet iguana doing okay?"

"Fine." Slowly, Mae's words registered, and Cormack focused on the woman across the table. "Eh?"

"_There_ you are," Mae said sarcastically. She tucked her short dark hair behind her ears in a habitual motion.

"Sorry. I'm just a little distracted."

"I noticed."

"Sorry," she said, again.

"So, how'd that favor I did for you work out?" Mae wanted to know. She took a bite of her chicken curry as she waited for an answer.

"Beautifully," smiled Stephanie, finally giving her dinner companion her full attention.

"Still not going to tell me what it was about, are you." It was less a question, more an acceptance of the inevitable.

"Nope," she confirmed, knowing full well all Mae had to do was turn around and look at a small table in the far corner of the mess hall to find her answer. At that moment, Stephanie saw Trip laugh at something Malcolm said, and Malcolm smiled. _Oh, to be a fly on the wall_

"You should see it when my family gets together," said Trip, expounding on their current topic. "Usually, it's a Fourth of July barbecue or Christmas. Summer's the craziest, though."

"I'd have thought otherwise—presents and kids, after all."

"Nah. Christmas is big, but pretty relaxed, really. It's summer when the kids are hopped up on sugar and the dogs are running all over the yard it gets wild. I remember one year, I'm barbecuing the steaks, right? Well, somehow, one of the dogs gets hold of a steak and makes a break for it. Of course, my sister's yelling at the dog, kids are laughing and chasing it. The poor thing gets so frantic it collides with my brother-in-law who goes head-first into the picnic table where he lands in this huge bowl of potato salad." 

"That must have been something to see," said Malcolm, laughing.

"Oh, yeah," Trip emphatically assured him. He grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen my sister so mad."

"So, are you usually in charge of the cooking at these family gatherings?" Reed asked. He wasn't much of a cook himself, so he was curious.

"Only the barbecuing. Indoor cooking isn't my thing, but give me a grill and a pile of charcoal, and I'm your man."

Reed couldn't help thinking, _I wish._ "Real charcoal? I didn't think people still used it."

"Absolutely. Some things are best done the old-fashioned way," Tucker assured him.

"I had no idea your skills extended to the culinary."

"My talents aren't limited to the engine room, you know," said Trip lightly. Malcolm's mind flashed back to those same words said in a dream nearly three months ago. Tucker noticed the change in his expression, asked, "What?"

"Nothing," Malcolm said. "I just remembered something I'd completely forgotten about."

"Nothing important, I hope."

"No. Not exactly."

"You going to share?"

Malcolm looked at him, smiled a little wickedly. "I think not."

"Well, now I really want to know," insisted the engineer.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Maybe he was letting his hormones get the better of his good sense, but he couldn't help adding, "I'll make you a deal. You tell me about the dream you mentioned the other morning, and I'll tell you what I'm remembering."

Trip's face went suddenly still, and Malcolm knew he'd made a terrible miscalculation. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," said Trip.

"No. No, it's not. You made it perfectly clear you didn't want to talk about it before. I should never have brought it up." Inside, he was cursing. It was going so well, and he had to make a stupid remark like that. "I'm sorry," he said, again, lamely.

Tucker looked at him, caught Reed's pale eyes with his own. "Really. It's okay."

Even more than usual, Malcolm found himself lost in that gaze. He wanted to fall into it, lose himself in its depths. So caught up was he with his imaginings he nearly missed what Trip was saying.

"Your eyes look really blue tonight. I don't think I ever noticed before. Must be the light in here," he concluded offhandedly. He gave a small shrug, reached for his glass of water.

It was enough to break the spell. Malcolm sat back a little, surreptitiously trying to pull himself together. _Focus, Malcolm,_ he told himself firmly. _You nearly ruined everything with that stupid comment. Don't make it worse._ Aloud, he said as casually as he could manage, "You look good. I don't often see you out of uniform."

"Yeah, well, not much opportunity. I had to change since my uniform got dirty, so I figured why not pretend to be a civilian for the evening? Go all the way, you know?" he said with a chuckle.

_All the way?_ Reed's mind echoed. _I'd love to, but not on a first date._ Despite the fact that Trip's simple presence was usually enough to carbonate his hormones, he didn't want him to think he was a push-over. Dreaming and imagining were one thing; for the lieutenant, reality was a different matter. _Don't fool yourself, Malcolm. You still don't know if he's even remotely interested in you as more than a friend. But he is here,_ another part of his mind argued. _That must count for something._

"So, any idea what movie they're running tonight?" Trip asked, oblivious to the dialogue and turmoil going on inside Reed's head.

"No. I'm afraid I didn't even think to check."

"I guess we'll find out together."

"I guess so," agreed Malcolm, thinking of a number of other, more exciting, things they could find out together.

Across the mess hall, Lawless was becoming increasingly curious. "Stephanie." Then, more forcefully, "Stephanie!"

Cormack started, looked at her. "What?" she wanted to know.

"What the hell is so fascinating over there that you can't take your eyes off it?"

"Nothing." Lawless started to turn. "Don't look!"

"Now I know you're insane," the dark-haired engineer said.

"That was in question?"

"And you're lying," she added, ignoring Stephanie's jest. "You're not getting off the hook that easy. What's going on?"

"I can't say."

"You can't say."

"Right."

"But if I turn around, I'm going to know."

"Right."

Slowly, casually, Lawless looked over her shoulder, scanned the room. Turning back to her dinner companion, she said, "Okay. I'm confused."

"Why?"

"I don't see anything that interesting. I see people eating dinner, just like every night—but that's it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"You're completely nuts," declared Mae with finality.

"Yep," Stephanie agreed, grinning—then grinned wider as both Trip and Malcolm burst out laughing at some private joke.

Mae glanced over at them. "Huh. They're having fun. I want what they're drinking," she joked dryly.

"I'll buy you one after the movie," said Cormack.

Lawless raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I still get the promised popcorn and soda, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, big spender. Celebrating something?"

Cormack let her eyes slide once more to the two men in the corner before looking back at her friend. She smiled. "Something like that," she said.

*****

End Log 9  
_(Completed 12 Dec 01)_

Continued in Log 10


	10. Log 10

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** — Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 10**  
(This takes place immediately following the events of _Log 9_.)  
_Rating [PG]_

*****

When he learned the name of the movie, Malcolm's first reaction was to look at Trip and say, "We don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"Why?" asked Trip. "Is it that bad?"

"I don't know. But the title's similarity to the last movie makes me rather dubious about its quality."

"Excuse me, sirs," said Lawless from not far away. She didn't want to interrupt, but felt the need to speak up in defense of the film. "I couldn't help but hear. It's really pretty good."

"You've seen it, Ensign?" asked Trip.

"Twice. It's actually considered a classic in its genre."

"What genre would that be?" Reed wanted to know.

"B sci-fi/horror."

He looked at Trip, reiterated, "Really. If you want, we can go."

Tucker laughed. "Let's give it a shot. I trust Lawless to work on the warp engines, and this isn't nearly as dangerous a prospect. I think we can trust her here."

At that moment, Cormack stepped up beside Mae. "Here's your stuff," she said, handing over the promised soda and a large bag of popcorn. "So, what's going on?" she asked, her eyes moving from Mae to Malcolm to Trip and back again.

"Ensign Lawless here was just assuring us of the high quality of tonight's movie," answered Malcolm.

"Really? How helpful." She flashed a tense, too-wide smile at the group.

"Right," interjected the dark-haired woman. "I wouldn't call it your classic first date movie, but if you can suspend your disbelief of the film's pretext, it's really good."

Most of her statement was lost on her listeners. At the words "first date," Malcolm's eyes narrowed, and he flashed an accusatory glance at Cormack. For her part, Stephanie turned wide, surprised eyes back at him, gave the tiniest shake of her head. Trip was the only one who actually heard the whole thing.

"So, what's the pretext?" he wanted to know.

Yanked from their silent exchange, both Reed and Cormack looked at him, saying, "What?"

"Of the film?" he clarified.

"Just that radiation from space could turn dead people into flesh-eating zombies," said Mae cheerfully.

"Between this and 'Night of the Killer Androids,' I'm beginning to think these are less movie nights and more someone's psychology experiment," said Cormack cynically.

"I heard that," said a pleasant tenor voice. She glanced behind her to see Dr. Kyrin Douglas, the ship's counselor, approaching. "And I just want to say I resemble that implication. How are you all this evening?" he asked, looking around the small group. There were various mutterings of "Fine" and "Good, thanks." "Glad to hear it! Commander Tucker, you will tell me if you have any more dreams like that last one, won't you? Fascinating."

Trip blushed, gave the psychiatrist a scathing look, which the tall, round-faced man cheerfully ignored.

Noting the growing tension, Stephanie looked at Mae and said pointedly, "We should probably find a seat. Did you want to join us, Doc?" she added to Douglas, determined to give Malcolm and Trip every excuse to be alone together.

"No, thank you, my dear. I'm meeting someone. In fact," he said, glancing toward the Rec. Center's door, "there he is now." He waved a hand at the crewman who'd just entered; the young man waved back, smiling. Douglas excused himself and crossed to where he stood waiting.

Cormack watched him cross the room, recognized the fellow she'd noticed in the mess hall earlier that evening. _Whaddaya know?_ she thought. "Let's find a seat. Excuse us, Commander, Lieutenant." She took Mae by the elbow, guided her away from the men.

"Bye," said Lawless over one shoulder. "What was that all about?" she demanded quietly as they claimed spots toward the front of the room.

"All what about?"

"All _that_," she repeated as if it would clarify everything. 

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah."

Lawless's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is this the same nothing you were talking about at dinner?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of."

"Yeah."

"I give up." Mae took a bite of her popcorn, washed it down with a sip of soda.

Left finally to their own devices, Reed and Tucker took seats toward the back of the hall. There wasn't a large crowd—not surprising, considering the last movie offering—and they found themselves the only occupants of their row.

Despite his best efforts, Malcolm was drawn into the film. Lawless was right: if you could accept its pretext, it actually wasn't too bad. She was also right that it wasn't really a prime choice for a "first date" film, but his options were severely limited, and he had to make do with what he was given. He would have preferred something a bit less gruesome and a bit more romantic, something that offered an excuse to move a little closer to his companion, perhaps even slide an arm around the back of his chair. But no such luck. So, as the credits ran and the lights came up, he found himself no closer to his ultimate goal.

"That was pretty good," announced Trip, mildly surprised.

"Yes," agreed Malcolm, "surprisingly."

"I'm glad you suggested this. I've been needing some down time."

"Me, too. In fact, how about a drink?" Reed crossed mental fingers, hoping he wasn't pressing his luck.

The engineer considered for a moment. "I don't know. It's getting kind of late."

Malcolm made a noncommittal noise, tried to keep his disappointment from showing on his face.

Stephanie stood and stretched, looking around the emptying Rec. Center. Spotting the scene at the back of the hall—and Malcolm's slightly crestfallen expression—she said quickly to Lawless, "You still up for that bevvy?"

"You still buying?"

"Sure."

"Then absolutely."

"Good. I'll be right back." She slipped out of the row and took the few short steps back to where Reed and Tucker stood. "Hey," she said by way of greeting. "Lawless and I are going for a drink in the mess hall. Perhaps you gents would like to join us?" She looked pleasantly from one officer to the other. Noting their hesitation, she gave the added incentive, "I'll buy the first round."

Reed waited silently, willing the commander to change his earlier decision. "Well," said Trip, finally, "why not? The ship's run fine so far tonight. I expect she'll manage a little longer without me."

"Malcolm?"

"Yes, all right. That sounds good," the lieutenant said a little too quickly.

Cormack looked over her shoulder, called out, "Mae, you ready to go?"

"You bet," she answered.

As the four left the Rec. Center and headed to the nearest lift, Malcolm took a split-second to look at Cormack and mouth the words, _Thank you_. They slowed their pace slightly, allowing the others to get a step or two ahead.

"How's it going?" asked Cormack, sotto voce.

"I wish I knew."

"Give me the word, and Lawless and I will be out of there in a millisecond."

"Hey," called Trip from where he stood, holding the lift door open. "You two coming?"

"Sorry," said Cormack as she stepped inside, followed closely by Reed. Lawless gave her a quizzical look, which she chose to ignore.

*****

There were only a few people scattered around the mess hall. The lights were dimmed, denoting the late hour and offering the suggestion that perhaps it was time for bed. The foursome picked a table near the windows, and all but Cormack sat. "I know what Mae wants," she said. "But let me see if I can guess what you fellows would like." She considered the men at the table, pointed first to Malcolm. "You look like a Guinness man to me, yes?"

"Quite," answered Reed with a bemused smile.

Stephanie turned her attention to the Chief Engineer. "Whisky and soda?"

"How'd you know that?" Trip asked.

"I worked my way through college as a bartender."

"Really?"

"Mostly. Mae, come give me a hand?"

"Sure." Lawless started to stand.

"Let me," said Reed, gesturing for her to remain seated. "Excuse us."

Left at the table with her C.O., Mae said, "So, Commander, did you like the movie?"

"Yeah. You were right; it wasn't too bad," said Trip.

She laughed. "It's a good thing you're an engineer and not a reviewer. That's hardly a ringing endorsement."

Over at the drinks dispenser, Cormack and Reed were having a quick, hushed conversation as Stephanie ordered up the drinks. "So?" she asked.

"So, what?" Reed wanted to know. "You've been right here. You know nothing's happened since the last time you asked."

She handed him the whiskey and soda, ordered the Guinness. "Do you still think he doesn't think it's a date?" she specified as the pint glass filled with treacle-dark liquid.

"I don't know." He was clearly frustrated and a little disheartened. 

"Don't stress it. He's obviously having fun. Whatever else happens tonight is icing."

"I'm not looking for anything to happen tonight, particularly," said Reed quickly, somewhat taken aback by her easygoing assumption.

"Okay." She seemed unaware of—or at least unconcerned by—his small outburst. She handed him the glass of stout, ordered up Lawless's Cosmopolitan. "I just mean, relax. You're both enjoying yourselves, right? So everything will be fine." 

"You're being quite generous with your alcohol ration," Malcolm said, not wanting to discuss it any more. 

"I'm not using it for anything else," said Cormack, accepting the change of topic without comment. She carefully removed the filled martini glass, placed her own tumbler under the tap, saying, "Tonic with a twist of lime, cold."

"You don't drink?"

"Not anymore." It was said with simple finality and Reed, never inclined toward prying, didn't press the matter.

They carried the drinks back to the table where Tucker and Lawless were still discussing the evening's entertainment.

"I was a little disappointed in the ending," Trip was saying. "Thanks," he added as Malcolm set the whiskey and soda in front of him.

"Why's that?" asked Lawless, accepting her own drink from Cormack. She took a cautious sip before setting it on the table.

"It just seemed a little predictable, you know?"

"Ah. _Now_ it seems predictable. You have to consider when the film was made. There wasn't the huge canon of science-fiction and horror movies we have now. Sure, there were a lot of silent horror films—Dracula, the Mummy, the Wolfman, and whatever—but it was only 1968. The idea of space-born radiation that could affect human beings was still relatively new."

"You'll have to excuse Ensign Lawless," said Cormack, cutting into her friend's lecture. "She sometimes forgets that not everyone is an aficionado of bad movies."

"They're 'B' movies, not 'bad' movies," argued Mae, a little annoyed.

"Sorry."

"Actually, she has a point," said Malcolm. "Humans hadn't even landed on the moon then. They had no real way of knowing what was out there. Even today, we've barely scratched the surface of space, as it were. Yet despite the dangers, we'd rather see for ourselves what's here than trust probes to send back information."

"That's sure true," agreed Trip, "even when it's not necessarily the best idea." He spoke with the odd combination of self-deprecation and authority, having been a part of more than one ill-fated landing party. "Not that that'd ever stop us," he added with a sardonic chuckle.

"Yes, you know rather more about that than the rest of us, don't you?" Reed said, gently teasing.

"You and Cormack haven't had much better luck."

Malcolm thought about the missions he'd been on, and had to agree. "No, but if you total up the number of visits to sickbay, you're still at the top of the list." He kept his tone light, but his stomach was in knots at the memory of Trip's illnesses and injuries—from hallucinogenic pollen to second-degree burns. Every time the commander was on a mission without him, Reed worried. He couldn't help it. It was his job to protect _Enterprise_'s crew; it was his passion to protect her Chief Engineer. It didn't matter that Tucker was trained on any and all hand weapons. It didn't matter that he was skilled in hand-to-hand combat. All that became irrelevant when Trip was in danger. Every time, Malcolm's first instinct was to go in with weapons blasting, get him out, and clean up the mess later. He silently admitted it wasn't the most practical of attitudes, but it was the way things were.

In his own defense, Trip was about to argue that at least he'd never died, but he caught a glimpse of Cormack from the corner of his eye and abruptly changed his mind. She was staring into her glass as if she didn't want to make eye-contact with anyone at the table. "You okay?" asked Trip, noting her somber expression.

"What?" She looked up, smiled too brightly. "Yeah. Fine. Why?" 

Tucker was slightly startled by her abrupt change in demeanor. "You just looked a little grim there."

"Nope," Stephanie said with continued false cheerfulness. "Must've just been thinking too hard for a second there. I'm good, eh. What were we talking about?"

"Nothing important. I was just going to point out to Malcolm that I don't get hurt _every_ time I leave the ship." He gave the Tactical Officer a look both kidding and a little challenging. "And _I've_ never been set adrift in a leaking cargo hold."

"It wasn't something I had control over," Reed argued pleasantly. "That Ryan fellow was completely mad. You met him. You know what I mean."

The conversation continued, friendly banter being bandied back and forth across the table. Cormack tried to pay attention, but only heard about two-thirds of what the others were saying. Still, she laughed when appropriate and tossed in an occasional remark, hoping no one would notice that she wasn't really there.

She nursed her drink for nearly half an hour before finally tossing back a last swallow. "I think I'm going to turn in," she said.

"Sure you don't want another drink?" asked Tucker. "I'll buy the next round."

"No, thanks. I'm not much good at mornings, and another drink will only make it tougher," she replied, rising to her feet.

Reed and Lawless looked at her strangely, both knowing full well she wasn't actually drinking alcohol.

"I'm pretty wiped out, too," said Mae. She stood. "I'll walk with you. Good night, Commander, Lieutenant." She gave each of the men a pleasant smile.

"Thanks for the drinks," said Trip.

"My pleasure. Good night," said Cormack.

"'Night."

"See you tomorrow," added Reed. He gave her a concerned and inquisitive look. Cormack shot him a falsely reassuring smile as she and Lawless made their exit.

Once in the corridor, Mae turned to her friend. "I'm getting tired of asking this but—what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I know there was no vodka or gin in that tonic, so why the pretence about another drink?"

"No reason. I'm just tired, and I figured it was as good an excuse as any for an exit." She continued walking, heading toward her cabin.

"But why did you need an excuse? What's up with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Stephanie insisted a little sharply.

"Does this have anything to do with the same nothing we've been talking about all evening?" Mae asked, sudden inspiration striking.

"No." Thinking of that other "nothing" and its players back in the mess hall, she had to smile—her first sign of genuine cheerfulness since the movie. "Actually, no."

*****

Back in the mess hall, Trip looked at Malcolm. "How about you? Another drink?" he asked.

"What happened to 'It's getting late'?" Reed joked with a smile.

Trip grinned. "I've decided late's just a state of mind. I haven't had an evening this relaxing since we came on board. We've both been working hard, and we both deserve an evening free of alarms and aliens. So, you want another beer?"

"All right." 

"Guinness, right?"

"Yes."

Trip stood and took their empty glasses to the drinks dispenser. Malcolm watched him cross the room, enjoying the view. _He should always wear those jeans when he's off duty,_ he thought. _Well, not _always_._ He couldn't keep the slightly lascivious smile from spreading across his face, and didn't even try. Although he did try to tone it down as Trip returned with the drinks. Apparently, he wasn't entirely successful.

"What was that look about?" asked the commander, setting the glasses on the table and sitting down.

Reed took a slow swallow of his beer, enjoying the cool, rich taste. "What look?" he asked.

"You had a funny look on your face just then."

"Did I?" He was playing, and it was fun.

"Yeah." Trip looked at him quizzically. "What's up?"

_Don't go there, Malcolm,_ his mind ordered sharply. _One beer is no excuse. Go easy. You said yourself you weren't looking for that tonight._ "Nothing," he said aloud. "Just enjoying the opportunity to sit back and not worry about the crew, the ship, the weapons systems, any of it."

"Yeah. I know what you mean." Tucker sighed, leaned back in his chair. He stared out the window, watching the stars slide by. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Mm. Yes," agreed Malcolm, not taking his eyes off the engineer. "There's nothing else quite like it."

*****

She was relieved to find their quarters empty. She'd said good night to a puzzled Lawless, and didn't think she could handle any more friendly, pointless chatter tonight. Now, Cormack grabbed her pajamas and a towel, and headed for the showers, hoping a good dowsing would clear the unpleasant web of confusion from her mind.

She hadn't intended to ditch on the evening so early; and Malcolm hadn't given a sign that he wanted her and Lawless gone. Still, the talk of ill-fated away missions had started her thoughts spinning, and she hadn't been able to stop them. Usually, she just ignored any memory of her trip to the collapsing alien vessel, but for some reason tonight had been tough. 

Stephanie reached the shower room, chose the stall farthest from the entrance, and shut its door behind her. She quickly stripped down and stepped under the tap, hit the jet. She let the hot water pour over her, trying to wash away images and emotions she couldn't control: the shipquake; debris and bodies floating around her in the zero-g vacuum; sudden panic as the bulkheads collapsed; and then nothing. Nothing, until she was choking her way back to life on the floor of the shuttlepod.

_It was weeks ago,_ she told herself fiercely. _Get over it. Move on._

She shivered despite the heat, leaned a shaking hand against the slick wall. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, held it for a moment before letting it out in a silent sob. Without a sound, she leaned her back against the shower wall, allowing herself to slip gently to the floor where she sat, her tears mixing with the pounding water.

*****

End Log 10  
_(Completed 19 Dec 01)_

Continued in Log 11


	11. Log 11

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer **— Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 11**  
(Follows immediately after the events of _Log 10_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

Reed and Tucker strolled casually down the corridor, enjoying a companionable silence.

"This is my stop," said Malcolm as they came level with the door to his quarters. He turned to face Trip, who stopped nearby. "I had a good time tonight." _Well done. Could you sound any more banal?_ he thought disgustedly. Even after the success of the evening so far his self-doubt kept trying to convince him he could still ruin it.

"So did I," Trip replied with an uncharacteristically cautious smile.

Reed's eyes lit up ever so slightly. "I'm glad." _Do it! _"Perhaps you'd like to do it again sometime? Preferably when they're running a better film," he added lightly, hoping to ease his own nervous tension. 

Trip stilled suddenly, his smile fading to a look of uncertainty. There was an increasingly nerve-wracking silence during which Malcolm silently berated himself. _You've gone too fast, you stupid git. Here's the part where he gets all flustered and fluttery and says that, while he's really flattered by the attention, he's not actually interested in men—or, worse, not interested in _you_, particularly, and he hopes we can still be friends and that it won't affect our working relationship…_

His thoughts were interrupted but Trip's quiet question, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

_Second date!_ Reed wanted to shout but wisely didn't. "Yes." He tried very hard to keep eye-contact with the engineer, wasn't sure if it was better or worse when Tucker was the first to look away.

There was another tension-building pause before Trip looked at him once more and said, "Yeah. I'd like that."

Caught dumbfounded, Malcolm's only response was a surprised, "Oh. Great!"

"But—"

_There had to be one, didn't there._ His slowly emerging smile rapidly disappeared again.

"—I gotta tell you. I haven't been too successful in the relationship department in the past." He seemed unsure, awkward. Reed found it incredibly endearing.

"It's all right," he hastened to reassure him. "I don't have the most outstanding track record myself. And—" How to put it without seeming pushy and indifferent at the same time? "I'm not asking for a lifetime commitment." _Yet._ "I just mean I'd like to spend more time with you…off-duty time."

Tucker relaxed a little at that. "Yeah. Okay," he said.

"I'll see you tomorrow. I'll be in the Armory for most of the morning, but maybe I'll see you on the Bridge later?"

"Probably. Yeah."

Reed keyed the unlock code and opened the door to his quarters. "Good night, then."

"G'night."

Malcolm stepped inside and locked the door behind him. He let out a huge sigh and leaned against the door, almost positive his knees were going to give out. 

He thought for a moment about what had just transpired. _I asked him out—no possibility of him not knowing _exactly_ what I was asking—and he said yes._ He thought for another moment. _He said _yes_!_ If he'd been the type to whoop with glee, he would have. Not being the type, however, he contented himself with a broad smile that lit up his face like a stellar aurora.

*****

Out in the corridor, Trip took a moment to collect himself before heading to his own cabin. Once there, his reaction wasn't too different from the Tactical Officer's. He locked the door and sat heavily on the bunk. "Wow," he said quietly. He was frankly amazed at his reaction to Malcolm's invitation. It had been a long time since he'd been with a man, and that hadn't ended well. Of course, he had to admit his relationships with women hadn't been any more successful. Three serious relationships he'd had in his life. Three. And he'd been unable to make any of them work.

He wondered if he was being incredibly foolish. There were so many reasons not to get involved with another member of the crew on a mission like this. If it didn't work out—if things went sour between him and Malcolm—what would happen then? Trip took a deep breath and forced himself to stop thinking about worst-case scenarios. He was a professional; Malcolm was a professional. Whatever happened between them personally, he had to believe they wouldn't let it affect them on duty.

"Oh, Trip," he muttered. "You better not screw this up…again."

*****

Cormack had no idea how long she'd been sitting there. Without a hot water tank to run out, there was nothing outside herself to drag her from her reverie. Nothing to tell her how much time had passed.

_Except that,_ she thought squinting at her pruney fingers under the driving pressure of the shower jets. She pushed her hair back with both hands, closed her eyes once more against the water. Her back still pressed to the wall, she put a steadying hand on the shower's back wall and slowly stood. She waited a moment as the resulting mild headrush passed. When she was certain it was gone, Cormack opened her eyes and lowered her hand. She was about to shut off the water when the practical part of her mind said, _Wash your hair. Do it now, or it'll be nothing but knots by morning._

Another part of her mind spoke up in support of the logic, while a third—the part that was beyond exhausted and in desperate need of sleep—argued that she could do it in the morning.

She sighed. It was a playing out of the ages old question: when you argue with yourself, who wins?

She washed her hair. Thoroughly rinsing out the ship's-issue, conditioning shampoo, she ran tired, wrinkled fingers through the long locks. Finally satisfied that she'd worked out all the tangles, she reached out and shut off the shower. Cormack wrung what water she could from her hair before grabbing her towel and drying herself off. Then, she wrapped the towel around her hair and settled it, turban-like, on top of her head. She quickly donned her pajamas against the growing chill.

Sitting on the cubicle's small bench, she folded the clothes she'd worn that evening. First the pants (her favorite old-fashioned, low-cut blue jeans), and then the sweater. She held the short, finely knit sweater up and stared at it. _Why did I wear this?_ she thought, puzzled. It was a nice sweater in a shade of dark brown she knew suited her. She also knew it made her look even bustier than she naturally was. Normally she saved it for special occasions—occasions where she was looking to catch someone's eye. So what had possessed her to wear it tonight?

_On the positive side,_ she tried to reassure herself as she folded the offending garment, _it didn't seem to distract Commander Tucker from Malcolm. But, honestly, Stephanie. What the hell were you thinking?_

Her task completed, she gathered her things and exited the cubicle. The shower room was still deserted. She didn't know how she looked, but she had a feeling it wasn't good. She tended to get puffy-eyed and red-nosed when she cried; the result was less than attractive. She crossed her fingers hoping she'd make it to her quarters unobserved.

Aside from one or two random Gamma shift crewmen, she was successful. She was surprised to find the quarters she shared with Ensign Cutler still empty. _Hmm. At least someone's having a good night,_ she thought, unknowingly leaping to the wrong conclusion._ Wonder if they're the only ones?_ She thought of Malcolm and Trip. _I hope everything's okay with them._

By the minimal light provided by the passing star field, she put away her clothes, tossing her dirty laundry down the small chute. Once she'd scrubbed her hair as dry as she could, she sent the towel down the chute, as well. Stephanie crawled under the covers and let out a sigh of exhaustion. It wasn't long before she was fast asleep.

*****

Late. She was late for her duty shift. _Lieutenant Reed is going to kick my ass,_ thought Cormack, hurrying to the Armory. She'd been hoping to catch Malcolm at breakfast to ask how the rest of his evening had gone, but she'd overslept. She didn't have time to stop for so much as a latté; a little early morning dishing with the lieutenant was out of the question.

"Ah. Ensign Cormack," said Reed the moment she stepped through the door. "Glad to see you decided to join us."

She stood a little straighter, knowing she wasn't going to be able to slink in past his watchful eye. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." She knew what was coming. It was standard procedure in Lieutenant Reed's armory that when you showed up late you got the crappiest job available at the time. She wondered what it was going to be.

For his part, the friend side of Reed wanted to let her off the hook, but the C.O. in him knew he couldn't. Despite the huge favor she'd done him the previous evening, rules were rules and he couldn't play favorites among his crew. He barely glanced up from the computer console he was studying, the slightest hint of apology in his expression. It was quickly replaced by professional impassivity as he said, "We're running diagnostics on all the defensive systems, and we need someone to go in and take a look at the targeting axis mechanism—the rotator appears to be jammed. You just volunteered."

"Yes, sir." It was the modern equivalent of being sent to the board to write "I will not be late for class" one hundred times. Cormack gathered up a tool kit and a personal communicator and headed to the jefferies tube nearest the area she needed to reach. She tucked the communicator into a sleeve pocket before removing the access panel to the jefferies tube. No one offered to help; she'd shown up late and nobody cared to draw their C.O.'s attention by relating too closely to her. She couldn't blame them. Setting the panel aside, she pushed the tool kit in and climbed after it.

She crawled several meters to reach the ladder to the next access point. Standing on tip-toe, she was just tall enough to lift the tool kit up and shove it a few centimeters into the connecting tube before climbing the ladder up to it. Once there, it was another ten-meter crawl to her destination. Reaching it, she removed the relevant access panel. She sat back in the tight space, opened the kit and pulled out a hand-held scanner. 

Her heart raced suddenly and she paused, drawing a deep breath. _That was weird,_ she thought as the rapid pounding subsided to its normal rate. Shrugging it off, she proceeded with her scans, but to no avail. As far as the scanner was concerned, there was no reason the mechanism shouldn't be working. Puzzled, she laid down on her stomach, peered closely at it, scanned it again. Still nothing. Reaching around awkwardly with her free hand, she unzipped her sleeve pocket. She pulled out the communicator and flipped it open.

"Cormack to Lieutenant Reed."

"Go ahead," came the familiar voice through the comm.

"I'm not finding any problem here, Lieutenant. I've run repeated scans and done a visual survey and there doesn't appear to be anything wrong. Can you try a remote reset again?"

"Just a moment." There was a pause while Reed reset the system from the console in the Armory. "It's still not responding," he announced.

"All right. I'm going in for a closer look. I'll leave the comm open."

"Understood."

Cormack fished a sonic screwdriver from the tool kit in the hope that whatever was wrong would be a simple fix. Turning onto one side, she inched forward, slipping her upper body through the opening. The pounding of her heart leapt to record pace once again, and a wave of dizziness hit her. She shivered violently. She took another deep breath and looked around, trying to determine what in that little space could possibly be causing her to feel the way she was feeling. "Cormack to Lieutenant Reed."

"Go ahead."

"You're not picking up any unusual energy fluctuations or radiation in this area, are you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"No," was Reed's answer. "Why? What's going on?"

"Not sure. Hang on. I'm within reach of the mechanism." She still couldn't see anything amiss. Half of her just wanted to smack the thing with a fist to see if it would help, but she suspected the lieutenant wouldn't appreciate that sort of "repair." 

_Ah-ha!_ she thought. _There you are, you little bugger._ "Found the problem, sir. There's a power coupling loose in here. Shouldn't take a minute. Wonder why it didn't show up in the diagnostic."

"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Reed from his post back in the Armory. "You don't sound like yourself."

"I'm okay," came Cormack's somewhat strained response. "Just in an awkward spot. It's pretty cramped in here. You might want to suggest a little more elbow room when they design the next ship, eh? All right." There was a brief pause in the communication. "I've got it tightened up and I'm back out in the jefferies tube. Try another re-start."

"Stand by." He initiated the reset once more. "Finally," he muttered. "That's done it," he added so Cormack would hear. "You can come out now."

There was silence at the other end of the comm.

"Reed to Cormack. Come in." He heard a shuffling sound he couldn't identify. More urgently, "Cormack, come in!"

"I'm here," said the ensign shakily. "Just…packing up. I'll be right out."

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, again.

Cormack looked at the walls of the jefferies tube around her. They were awfully close. She couldn't even sit up straight in the confined space. She took yet another deep breath, trying to calm herself down. _What's the deal, Stephanie?_ she demanded. _It's just a jefferies tube. You've seen the inside of plenty of them before._

"Ensign Cormack, respond!" Reed's voice came through once more, tension clear in his tone.

"Here, sir," she said. She gave a little shake of her head to clear it, grabbed the handle of the tool kit with her free hand. "On my way." She closed the communicator, effectively shutting off contact—then realized it was a mistake. Panic gripped her, and she began to shake once again.

Tool box in one hand and communicator in the other, she scrambled back up the jefferies tube to the junction. Not bothering with the ladder, she sat on the edge and jumped the two meters down. She stumbled a little on the hard landing, the tool box rattling loudly with the impact, but she didn't slow down. Shoving the box ahead of her, she made quick time back out into the Armory.

Reed was waiting for her. He grabbed the tool box, passed it off to a crewman, then helped her out of the tube. She was shaking and on the verge of hyperventilating. "Sit down," he ordered, easing her to the floor and kneeling beside her. "Put your head down and try to breathe normally." Dutifully, Stephanie dropped her head between her bent knees. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and the pounding of her heart slackened its violent pace. She shivered a little in reaction. 

"Better?" Malcolm asked gently.

Stephanie considered a moment before lifting her head and nodding cautiously. "Yeah. I think so."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I don't really know," she admitted apologetically. "I was fine, and then I wasn't." She inhaled deeply, fighting back a new wave of panic.

"Maybe you'd better report to sickbay."

"No! I'm fine," she protested vehemently. She climbed quickly to her feet, nearly blacked out from the intense and abrupt headrush.

Reed held her by both shoulders to steady her. "Yes. I can see you're perfectly well," he said dryly. "Griffith!" he called over one shoulder. The tall crewman jogged over from the other side of the room.

"Sir?" he said.

"Escort Ensign Cormack to sickbay." He cut off Stephanie's imminent protest with, "You're going, Ensign. That's an order."

She didn't argue. He was doing what any responsible C.O. would do; she didn't need to challenge his authority by getting belligerent. "Yes, sir." She handed over the communicator she still clutched in one hand, then turned and headed for the door, followed closely by Griffith.

"All right," she heard Reed say to the remaining tactical crew. "Excitement's over for the day. Let's get back to work. I want to know why that loose power coupling didn't register in the diagnostic."

*****

In Engineering, Commander Tucker was having issues of his own. "Dillard, run a level two diagnostic on the magnetic constrictors. I'm showing a .09 variance in the positron flow," he said from the central console.

"Aye, sir," replied the ensign. He keyed in the program and they waited as the results came in.

"Yep," said Trip. "There it is. Section J-42." He climbed down to the main deck and was about to repair the malfunctioning constrictor when the page came over the ship's comm.

It was Captain Archer. "All hands alert. Senior officers, report to the Bridge."

Tucker gave a quick order to Dillard to take care of the malfunction, and headed for the nearest lift. It arrived almost immediately he hailed it, and he stepped in, joining Lieutenant Reed on his way up from F-deck. "Any idea what's up?" he asked as the lift resumed its course.

"No," said Malcolm. "I wish I knew."

The lift opened, and they joined the rest of the Alpha shift crew on the Bridge. Tucker paused for a split second to stare at the image on the viewscreen. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, continuing to his station. Reed immediately sat at tactical and began scanning the unfamiliar ship for any sign of hostile activity.

"Unknown," replied T'Pol in her imperturbable way. "They're still several hundred kilometers away and are not responding to our hails."

"But they're coming in fast," added Mayweather from his post at the helm.

"Slow to one-half impulse, Ensign," said Archer. "No reason to rush. Let's wait for them to get here."

"One-half impulse, aye," echoed the helmsman, carrying out the command.

"They're well armed," announced Malcolm. "I can't make out a lot of details at this distance, but I'm reading at least eight forward weapons ports. And they're all open."

"Are their weapons charged?" the captain wanted to know.

"They don't appear to be, but it's impossible to be certain."

"That's not a lot of details?" muttered Trip from the nearby engineering station.

"Not nearly enough," Malcolm declared quietly but firmly.

Unaware of the subdued exchange between the engineer and the tactical officer, Archer looked toward Sato. "Is the UT running?"

"It's ready, sir," she replied. "Assuming we get anything for it to analyze."

"Hail them again."

She did. "Still no response."

*****

They'd just entered sickbay when the alert came. Cormack did an about-face and ran into Griffith, who blocked her path.

"Come on," she said. "You heard it. We need to get back to the Armory."

"No, ma'am," replied Griffith stoically.

"Excuse me?"

Dr. Phlox rose from the station where he was working and approached them. "Can I help you?" he inquired.

"No thanks, Doctor," said Cormack quickly. "We were just leaving." She tried to step around Griffith, but the tall man shifted to stop her again. "This isn't funny, crewman," she said sharply.

"With all due respect," began Griffith, "my orders were to escort you to sickbay."

"You've done that. Now, let's go."

"What happened?" asked Phlox, pulling a small medical scanner from his pocket and pointing it at the ensign.

"Nothing. We need to get back to our stations."

"She had some sort of attack in one of the jefferies tubes," offered Griffith helpfully.

"Thank you," Cormack snarled at him. 

The tactical crewman was undaunted. "Lieutenant Reed ordered her to report to you, Doctor."

"That was _before_ the alert!"

"Thank you, crewman," said Phlox sincerely, disregarding Cormack's angry comment. "I'll take it from here." Griffith nodded and left, happy to escape Cormack's temper. Stephanie made a move to follow him, but Phlox stopped her in her tracks. "Not so fast, Ensign."

She turned to face him, saying nothing; the look on her face was eloquent enough without verbal back-up.

"The less you fight me, the quicker you can get back to work."

Cormack sighed, acknowledging the logic. "Fine," she said shortly. "Where do you want me?"

"Have a seat on the diagnostic bed, please." He gestured to it and she sat. "I can already see your blood pressure and heart rate are elevated," he continued, looking at the small scanner in his hand. "Can you tell me what happened? What this attack involved?"

"It was no big deal, I swear."

"Just tell me what happened, please."

"I justgot a little freaked out. That's all."

"In what way 'freaked out'?" he inquired, continuing his scans. Dr. Phlox's patience had rapidly become legendary among the crew, but he found Ensign Cormack had a natural knack for straining it.

"I just got a little dizzy. And it was sort of hard to breathe. And then it felt like someone positively _danced_ over my grave."

"I beg your pardon?" It wasn't a phrase the Denobulan had encountered before.

"You know, when you get a sudden shiver down your spine? You say someone stepped on your grave, but this was kind ofmore than that."

"I see. You say you were dizzy?"

"A little."

"Have you eaten today?"

"No. I accidentally overslept. I didn't even have time for a cup of coffee." Indeed, she could feel the headache descending as she spoke. "But I've missed breakfast lots of times. It's no big deal," Stephanie added dismissively. 

"So you said. Why don't you lie down, and I'll run a full scan."

The ensign laid back on the diagnostic bed and it slid into the large medical scanner. She tried to relax while the machine took its readings figuring the more relaxed she was, the less it would have to scan. Unfortunately, it didn't work. She'd never liked the big scanner, and she'd spent enough time in it the previous month to truly despise the thing. Cormack could feel her pulse increasing and fought to keep it under control, telling herself she was merely impatient to get back to work.

It felt longer than it really was before the door at her feet slid open once again and the diagnostic bed rolled out. She sat up on her elbows, glanced over at Phlox. "So? What's the verdict?"

"Physically, you're very healthy."

"Thanks."

"Aside from the mild sprain to your left ankle and the abrasions on both hands."

"Huh?" She laid back again and took a look at her hands. He was right, of course. Her frantic crawl through the jefferies tubes had left both hands worse for the wear—especially the one that had been clutching the communicator. The knuckles were scraped and bruised.

"You hadn't noticed?" the doctor asked pleasantly as he carefully removed her boot.

"No. Ow!"

"Sorry." He examined the damaged ankle, gently moving it one way then another, while Cormack made pained and increasingly angry noises. He registered them but made no comment. "Did you fall?" 

"Jumped." He looked at her inquiringly. "About two meters."

"Ah. Well, it's minor, as I said, and easy to treat, as are the scrapes on your hands. Tell me, are you still doing yoga?" he asked as he gathered up the tools and medicines he needed to treat her injuries.

"What?" She sat up on her elbows again and looked at him, startled by the seeming non sequitur. "Yeah. When I can. It's been kind of busy in tactical lately, so I haven't had a lot of extra time. Why?"

He injected her with a hypospray—"To reduce the pain and swelling."—and wrapped her foot with practiced ease. "I recommend finding the time. Evidence indicates that what you experienced was a panic attack. Sit up, please."

Cormack sat up all the way, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She stared at the doctor, stunned. "What?"

"I don't recall seeing a history of claustrophobia in your medical files," continued Phlox, unperturbed. He moved on to treat her scraped knuckles.

"That's because I'm not claustrophobic." She was getting more annoyed by the second. "Look, Doctor, we both know I'm a shitty patient. Neither of us wants to see me spend any time here unnecessarily. So why don't you just finish patching me up and let me go so I can get back to work?"

"It's not quite that simple."

"It never is," muttered Cormack.

"These scans" He indicated the panels with a tilt of his head. "tell me you experienced heightened anxiety while you were inside the scanner just now."

"You know I don't like this thing."

"Dislike and fear are different things."

_And I'm _really _disliking this conversation,_ thought Cormack, but chose not to voice her thought. Instead she asked, "Okay. So what do I have to do to get you to let me out of here?"

Phlox regarded her seriously for several moments. "I want you to make an appointment to speak with Dr. Douglas."

"The _shrink_?!"

"As you so colloquially put it, the shrink."

"Fine. I'm off duty at 1600 hours. Sign me up for 1615." She grabbed her sock and boot and pulled them on. "Can I go now?" she asked angrily.

"I'll inform Dr. Douglas of your availability. He'll contact you if there's any change of schedule," he answered shortly. Even the usually jovial Phlox had a limit; he was annoyed.

Cormack recognized the tone, took a split second to decide if she cared. She found she didn't. "Thanks." She stood and abruptly left.

Phlox stared for a moment at the door that closed behind her. He shook his head slightly before turning to clean up.

*****

"Son of a bitch," breathed Trip.

The alien vessel ceased its approach. It hung on the viewscreen, ominous and intimidating and very, very large. The open weapons ports were clearly visible at this distance. Reed ran a quick scan and was surprised to discover the imposing ship's weapons were unarmed. He was about to say as much when Hoshi spoke up.

"Sir!" the comm officer said. "I'm getting a response! It's audio only."

"Let's hear it," Archer replied.

"The UT is having trouble locking in the syntax. I can't guarantee it's going to make much sense."

"I don't need a guarantee, Ensign. I just want to know if they're planning to kill us."

Sato had the decency to look chagrined at the Captain's tone. "Yes, sir." She punched up the comm signal.

To Archer's less trained ear, it sounded a good deal like Klingon—lots of sharp consonants and guttural sounds. Sato would have told him it sounded more like Georgian. Either way, the universal translator was working hard to decipher it. Slowly, interspersed with the alien language, certain words were coming through—words like "restricted space" and "identify" and "act of war."

"I'm trying, sir, but that's all I can get at this point," Sato apologized.

"Open a frequency."

"Aye, sir."

Archer stood straighter in front of the captain's chair, began the standard Starfleet mantra: "My name is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Earth starship _Enterprise_. We mean you no harm. We're on a mission of exploration. Please respond."

Across the Bridge, Malcolm was getting anxious. His instincts were telling him it was well past time to polarize the hull plating, but Archer still hadn't given the command. He flexed his fingers over his control console, waiting. Meanwhile, the alien vessel continued to come closer, looming more ominously on the viewscreen every moment.

Little by little, the UT was making sense of the strange language. 

"Captain _Vaktse_ of the _Estval_ Your presence violation of restricted space. Identify purpose in forced to respond seen as an act of war."

"We had no intention of violating your space," said Archer, guessing at the missing pieces of the alien's speech. "We're explorers. Our starcharts have no indication of your territorial boundaries."

There was a pause during which each of the bridge crew could only guess what the aliens were planning. Finally

"Show yourselves," said the alien—Vaktse, if the translator had picked up the name correctly.

Sato glanced to Archer, got a small nod of okay, and opened the visual link. Not receiving an image, themselves, Archer asked, "Are you receiving our transmission?"

"Yes," came the alien's response. It sounded almost hesitant. "Your species is unfamiliar to us. What do you call yourselves, and why are you here?"

"We're humans," the Captain began, deciding that with a dodgy UT he didn't want to confuse issues by mentioning the one Vulcan and one Denobulan aboard. "We come from a planet called Earth. We're here for exploration and to make contact with other species, such as yourselves."

"You have no designs on our territory?"

"No. We just want toget to know you." It sounded lame, even to his own ears, but with eight open weapons ports aimed in their direction, Archer would willingly suffer the hackneyed platitude if it meant getting his crew and ship out safely.

"Why do you not stand ready to defend yourselves?" Vaktse demanded then.

Reed was wondering the same thing and was curious what explanation the Captain would give.

"As I said, we're explorers. We're not interested in a confrontation. Activating our defenses without an immediate threat could have been seen as an act of aggression. Our sensors indicate that your own weapons are not presently armed."

Malcolm's spine stiffened. He'd never said that. It was true, now the alien ship was close enough to determine that kind of information, but Archer didn't know that. He hadn't asked, and there'd been no opportunity to inform him.

Trip noticed the sudden tension, guessed at its cause. "Relax, Lieutenant," he said softly enough not to be overheard by anyone but the Tactical Officer. "Captain's just trying to make nice."

Reed gave a short nod of acknowledgement, knowing he couldn't voice what he was thinking. It would be insubordinate at best, and he didn't believe in dissension on the Bridge—particularly when there was a potentially hostile alien hanging off the bow.

"I see the reasoning in what you say," Vaktse was saying. "Clearly, you are unlike us in many ways, but we are also interested in contact with other species. You've entered our territory, and this must be dealt with. However, if what you say is true, we may both gain from your error. My science officer tells me your atmosphere is comparable to our own. We will board your vessel, and learn the truth behind your actions."

"Sir!" Reed couldn't help but protest. Less than a week since they'd unloaded the pilgrims of Agosoria, and now _more_ unknown aliens wanted aboard?

Archer held up one hand to forestall the argument he knew was coming. "I know, Lieutenant," he said quietly. To the alien captain, he said, "What assurance can you give us that you're intentions aren't hostile?"

"You're not in a position to argue. I remind you it was _you_ who violated our territory. But," Vaktse continued, "as a gesture of good will, I propose a trade."

"What do you have in mind?"

It didn't take long, and when the deal was made, Reed couldn't have been unhappier. The alien captain and three others would board _Enterprise_. In return, Commander Tucker and a security team would be sent to their ship. Reed was torn. He would be here to defend the ship and protect the Captain, but he had to entrust the safety of the Chief Engineer to someone else.

"Mr. Reed, prep a shuttlepod," said Archer.

"Aye, sir." He rose and headed for the lift, Tucker close behind him.

"And, Trip," the Captain added as they stepped inside, "be careful."

"You too, sir," Tucker replied with a nod.

*****

End Log 11  
_(Completed 31 Dec 01)_

Continued in Log 12


	12. Log 12

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer **— Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 12**  
(Follows immediately after the events of _Log 11_ and immediately preceding the events of _Silent Enemy_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

Malcolm paused for a brief second to hail the Armory. "Have a security team meet me in the Launch Bay," he ordered as soon as the page was answered.

He and Tucker continued quickly along the E-deck corridor. Trip glanced at him. "You don't like this, do you?"

"How'd you guess?" Reed replied grimly.

"Relax," Trip said, unhelpfully. "There's no proof these aliens are hostile."

"There's no proof they're not."

"Unless you count the fact they haven't done anything hostile."

They reached the Launch Bay and began prepping Shuttlepod Two for launch. "Point taken," begrudged Reed. "But that doesn't mean they won't. They're still an unknown."

"I never realized you were such a pessimist," commented Trip.

"I'm a realist," countered the lieutenant. "And it's my job to be suspicious."

Further debate was suspended as security team arrived. Malcolm glanced up at their entrance and was surprised to find Ensign Cormack at the lead of the trio. She was backed up by crewmen Griffith and Martinez.

"Security team reporting," she said. Seeing no immediate threat, she slung the pulse rifle she carried over one shoulder and awaited her orders.

"Ensign," said Reed. "Back on duty already?"

"Dr. Phlox released me." He gave her a doubtful look, remembering the last time she'd said that. "Honestly," she assured him.

Trip looked at the team, noted the artillery. "You can leave the rifles behind," he said.

Cormack looked questioningly at Reed.

"Can I have a word with you, Commander?" Reed said, turning to the engineer. 

They moved several paces away before Trip said, "I know what you're going to say."

"Then I presume you have an explanation as to why you're overriding my authority over my team."

"We're not going over there for a fight. Bringing in the big guns isn't the friendliest way to say hello."

"With all due respect, my first priority is safety, not manners."

"We'll be fine with the phase-pistols. How would you feel if they showed up here toting huge rifles?"

"There's no reason to believe they won't."

"That's enough, Lieutenant," said Trip, ending the argument with a simple pulling of rank.

Tight-lipped and angry, Reed just nodded sharply and returned to the waiting security team. "You're to take phase-pistols only," he told them. "This is _ostensibly_ a diplomatic mission and we wouldn't want to accidentally start something." He briefly outlined the mission while Trip continued final preparations of the shuttlepod.

The Captain's voice came over the comm. "Archer to Tucker."

Trip hit the button on the nearby comm panel. "Go ahead, Captain."

"How's it going?"

"Just about ready to launch, sir. Give us five more minutes, and we'll be all set."

"Understood. Archer out."

"According to scans," Reed said, checking the data, "the atmosphere over there has a slightly higher oxygen level than our own."

"Anything else we need to know?" asked Trip.

"No. At least, not as far as our sensors can determine."

"Then let's get moving." Tucker climbed into the waiting shuttlepod. 

Cormack collected the pulse rifles from Griffith and Martinez as they followed him in, allowing her to steal a moment with the lieutenant as she passed the weapons off to him. "Don't worry, sir," she said quietly. "I'll keep everyone safe."

He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement and thanks. "Make sure that includes yourself. Be careful over there," he said. "We don't even know what these aliens look like."

*****

"_Estvali_ vessel _Mskretu_, this is _Enterprise_ Shuttlepod Two, requesting clearance to dock," said Tucker, doing his damnedest not to stumble over the unfamiliar alien words. Not for the first time, he wished he had even one quarter of Ensign Sato's skill with languages.

A deep voice came back through the comm. "_Enterprise_ Shuttlepod Two, move to the following coordinates and cut your engines. Our guidance beam will lock on and direct you into our docking bay."

Cormack's hackles went up at this new information, and even Trip wasn't overly thrilled. The two traded glances. 

"Understood." He checked the coordinates and piloted the shuttle to them. Reluctantly, he shut down the engines.

The pod was immediately grabbed by the guidance beam. All of its occupants felt compelled to peer out at the enormous vessel reeling them in like fish on a line. It wasn't more than a few seconds before the ship completely filled their line of vision.

Tucker and Cormack exchanged another look, and the ensign double-checked her phase-pistol.

*****

Archer and Reed were in _Enterprise_'s docking bay to meet the arriving aliens. So too were a well but discreetly armed security team. The Captain had raised an inquisitive eyebrow when he'd arrived and found them there. His Tactical Officer had simply returned the look with his most neutral expression. The corner of Archer's mouth had quirked in the tiniest of smiles, and he'd nodded slightly. No further comment was made.

The hatch in the alien shuttle opened with a metallic clang, and four figures stepped out.

It was all Archer could do to keep from taking an involuntary step back. For his part, Reed's only sign of discomfiture was a discreet widening of the eyes. He could only hope his security team remained equally impassive. He heard Archer swallow tensely and couldn't blame him for the reaction.

The _Estvali_ were bipeds like the humans, but that was where the resemblance ended. Their captain was head and shoulders taller than Archer. By Reed's estimation, none of the four was less than about two and a half meters in height. They were also the furriest creatures he'd seen outside London Zoo. Due to what looked to be leather body armor, he couldn't see as much of them as one did of the animals at the zoo, but they certainly _appeared _to be completely covered in varying shades of reddish-orange fur. And—he just couldn't help thinking it—they were ugly. Hideous to the extent he was sure he'd once read a Grimm's Fairy Tale involving one or two of them.

He looked closely at the tallest _Estvali_—the captain. Large, somewhat protruding eyes sat wide apart above a flexible, snout-like nose. A quick glance showed him all their noses were quivering as if they were testing the atmosphere. _Hmm,_ thought Reed. _That's probably just what they're doing._ Their mouths were little more than lipless slashes, which exposed many surprisingly small but decidedly sharp-looking teeth whenever the _Estvali_ spoke.

However, their physical appearance wasn't Reed's primary concern. It was the weaponry carried by the three shorter _Estvali_ that interested him most. While Archer greeted the arrivals, Reed tuned out the generic pleasantries and focused on their weapons. He was relieved to see they hadn't come "toting huge rifles," as Trip had put it. But that didn't mean the small handguns they carried were any less deadly.

Hearing his name suddenly, he put on his most diplomatic face and turned his eyes back to the tallest _Estvali_.

"Captain Vaktse," Archer was saying, "this is Lieutenant Reed, my Tactical Officer."

"Captain," said Reed in greeting. He hesitated to say "Sir" or "Ma'am" as he honestly didn't know which the _Estvali_ Captain was, if either.

"Can we offer you any refreshment?" Archer asked, always the host. Reed wondered if he was like that at home, or if it was just a "Captain" thing. He guessed it was the former, but doubted he'd ever have the opportunity to find out.

"No," Vaktse said. "We will discuss your presence here and what will be done about it. Is there a place for this on your ship?"

"Of course. Follow me." 

Leaving one _Estvali_ guard and one security crewman to watch over the alien transport, Archer led the procession to the Situation Room. Once there, he and Vaktse entered accompanied by two guards, once again one human and one _Estvali_. Reluctantly, Reed left the remaining pair staring suspiciously at one another outside the Situation Room's door. There was no more he could do there, so he headed to the Bridge where he'd be able to keep a comprehensive eye on both the visiting aliens and the team _Enterprise_ had sent in exchange.

*****

"Whoa," breathed Trip at his first sight of an _Estvali._ To his credit, the only one who actually heard the remark was Ensign Cormack who stood next to him.

"Yes, sir," she agreed quietly.

Four of them were waiting as the team stepped out of the shuttlepod. The largest of the _Estvali_ stepped forward. "I'm called Amvtou," the tall, burly alien said. "I'm head of security. You will follow me. We prepared a place for you to wait while our Captain is aboard your vessel."

Before Tucker could move, Cormack quickly stepped in front of him, effectively placing him in the center of a triad of security guards. There was an element of absurdity to it in Trip's opinion, as he stood nearly a head taller than the ensign, and Amvtou another head taller than he. Still, the engineer didn't protest. He knew she was just doing her job, if a little overzealously. He looked at Amvtou. "Lead the way," he said.

Clearly the _Estvali_ weren't overly concerned by any possible threat posed by the _Enterprise_ crewmembers. Two of the four who'd met them remained in the docking bay, while only the imposing head of security and one armed crewman escorted them. No attempt was made to relieve the humans of their weapons.

Tucker kept his eyes peeled as they followed Amvtou, taking in everything he could about the alien ship. The corridors were wide and airy and, unsurprisingly, the ceilings were at least half again as high as those on _Enterprise_. The light aboard the ship had a blue tint to it, making it seem a bit dark to his human eyes. It emanated from wall panels set just higher than Trip's head. Every way Trip turned he saw smooth, gleaming bulkheads. Seeing no seams or joints, his engineer's mind wondered how they were constructed.

Cormack, too, was making detailed observations but with the intent of knowing exactly how far they were being taken from their shuttlepod. She planned to be ready should a hasty retreat be in order. She didn't like leaving the pod unguarded, but that was her secondary concern. It was as secure as she could make it; that would have to do.

The group passed several doors before Amvtou stopped in front of one that looked like any other they'd seen. The _Estvali_ waved a furry hand in front of what must have been a scanner, and the door opened. 

"You will wait here," their guide said, gesturing them inside.

Cormack went first, taking a cautious step in and looking around. It was essentially a holding cell. Admittedly, it was a very plush, roomy holding cell, but a holding cell nonetheless. There was no window, and the walls were bare aside from the same blue lightbars of the corridor. A large table with chairs stood in the center of the room, and a cushioned bench ran along two bulkheads. Seeing nothing immediately threatening, she moved away from the door, allowing the rest of the landing party inside. 

Once they were in, Amvtou waved a hand over the sensor panel again. Instead of the door closing behind them, an energy barrier crackled to life in the open doorway. All four of the humans started in surprise.

"What the—?" exclaimed Trip, taking an involuntary step back from the doorway.

Amvtou was unperturbed. "I will return when our Captains have reached an agreement," he said. He turned and left, leaving the guard outside the door.

Left alone, the landing party did what came naturally. Cormack removed a small hand-held scanner from one of her many pockets and began to survey the room. Griffith and Martinez took up positions flanking the softly crackling doorway at what they hoped was a safe distance.

"Ensign?" said Tucker as Cormack continued her sweep. The two spoke in hushed tones, uncertain if the energy barrier was as open to sound as it was to sight.

"Nothing, sir," she said. "If there's any surveillance equipment or weapons in these walls, I can't find them."

"That could be good or bad," muttered Trip.

"Yes, sir." Cormack finished her circuit of the room then doubled back for an extended scan of the energy field in the doorway. "Damn. Scanners won't lock on. I'm getting nothing but static."

"Here," said Tucker. He unzipped a pocket and removed an apparently identical scanner. "Try this one."

"Sir?"

"I've been working with T'Pol on some modifications. This is the prototype. Give it a try."

Cormack traded her own scanner for the one held by the commander. She turned back to the energy barrier, ran another scan. "I've got something!" she exclaimed. Her excitement faded as she added, "But it doesn't make sense."

"What is it?" asked Trip coming to stand beside her. He looked over her shoulder at the scanner screen. "Let me see." He held out a hand, and she passed the scanner back to him. The engineer tapped several buttons, then ran the scan yet again. "Scanner's working fine," he said. "It just doesn't know what to make of the energy field. The frequency keeps changing, so there's never a chance to lock onto anything."

"Neat trick," Cormack said without enthusiasm.

"Yeah." Trip held up a hand and reached cautiously toward the barrier.

Griffith and Martinez eyed the action dubiously as Cormack said hastily, "Sir, I wouldn't recommend it."

Tucker hesitated then let his hand fall back to his side. "Yeah," he said, again. "You're probably right."

"So, what do we do?"

"Looks like there's nothing to do, Ensign. Except wait."

"Yes, sir."

*****

"Captain's Star Log, supplemental. Despite their advanced weaponry, the _Estvali_ seem to be a peaceful race run by a technocracy. We've come to an agreement with their captain, Vaktse. In reparation for our trespassing into their space, she's demanded a piece of technology. Which piece it'll be, I don't know yet. I see no choice but to let them survey our systems. I expect Mr. Reed will put up an argument."

Captain Archer was right.

"You're just going to hand over an as yet unspecified piece of technology to aliens we've only just met?" Reed asked, trying not to let his disapproval show in his tone.

"We've run out of choices, Lieutenant."

It was a rushed conversation held over the ship's comm. Reed and T'Pol were at one end on the Bridge; Archer at the other, presumably out of earshot of their _Estvali_ guests.

Malcolm sat even straighter at the tactical station. "What could we possibly have that they don't? I've run a number of scans of their vessel, and what I can make out isn't encouraging. Their weapons and defensive systems well outmatch our own, and the readings on their engines are off the scale. I can only imagine how fast that ship can travel."

"And bearing all that in mind," the Captain said logically, "what do you think our chances are of getting out of this without handing over a system or two?"

"I understand, sir, but I wonder what our chances are of getting out even _after_ we've handed them over."

"Your view is noted, Lieutenant," Archer said, ending that discussion. "T'Pol, I want a constant sensor lock on our team over there. If their status changes, I want to know about it."

"Understood." The Vulcan checked the ship's sensors, noted the location of the landing party and the shuttlepod. "They are currently 273 meters from the shuttle," she said. "Life signs are strong and regular."

"Good. Keep me updated. I'm taking our visitors on a little tour. Archer out."

Reed hailed the Armory.

"Young here. Go ahead."

"Ensign, I want a guard posted at each of the following locations." He rapidly listed a number of locations throughout the ship including the Bridge, Main Engineering, Sickbay, and the transporter chamber. "They're to be armed with phase-pistols only, set on stun."

"Aye, sir."

"Reed out."

T'Pol looked at him across the Bridge. "Lieutenant?" T'Pol inquired. "The Captain requested no such action."

"You're right."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment. The Tactical Officer's actions were logical, given the circumstances. She saw no reason to contradict them.

Sato and Mayweather silently exchanged puzzled glances.

The lift opened at that moment, and a tactical crewman stepped out. He nodded his crew-cut head to T'Pol. "Ma'am?" he said. She simply nodded in response. He looked to Reed, who also acknowledged him with a nod and a "Crewman." The young man took up a position just to one side of the lift door and stood ready.

*****

It was an odd sight to anyone unprepared for it, and no one was prepared. Archer led the small train of people through Main Engineering. Following him closely was the towering Vaktse, flanked by her guards. His own pair of security guards were only a few steps behind them.

He gave them a brief overview of the warp reactor. As he'd suspected, the _Estvali_ were unimpressed. "Of course," he said, "my Chief Engineer could tell you more about it. I know the systems pretty well, but he's the expert."

Vaktse looked at him. "You are not the master of this technology?" she asked.

"No," Archer replied, puzzled by her reaction. 

"Then why do we waste our time with you? Where is this Chief Engineer?"

"He's aboard your vessel."

Her already protuberant eyes bulged farther. "What?"

"The exchange required a top-ranking officer. The terms were yours," he reminded her. "I don't understand the problem."

"You say you are Captain, but you are not master of your ship's technology. This makes no sense to me."

Realization struck Archer. "Unlike you, we aren't a technocracy. I hold the position of Captain through experience, training, and rank. The specific technologies of the ship are divided among officers who specialize in different fields."

"You have many technicians of rank?"

"Yes."

"Strange." Vaktse glanced again at warp reactor. "This technology doesn't interest me. What else do you have?"

"Follow me." He turned and led them back out of Engineering, much to the relief of everyone working there. Archer noticed a security crewman standing just outside the main entrance as they passed through. He hadn't ordered it, but he wasn't surprised. Reed was very thorough at his job; that's why the Captain had recruited him.

They passed another guard at the transporter chamber.

"This is the transporter," Archer began. "It allows us to convert physical objects into energy, then reassemble them at another location." He wasn't adept at reading the _Estvali_'s facial expressions, but he thought the alien captain looked intrigued.

"What kind of objects?" she wanted to know.

"Equipment, generally. Cargo. It's also rated for organic matter."

"Organic matter?"

Archer was hesitant. "People," he said, finally. "But it's not perfected," he quickly added. "We've transported a small number of people safely, including myself, but there have also been…problems."

"Your problems don't concern me. This is the technology we will have."

"I'm not sure—"

The _Estvali_ cut him off. "I am sure. Your engines are of no use to us. Our scans show your weapons to be largely ineffectual against our own systems; they would be useless against our enemies. But this…" She gestured at the transporter. "…I like. This I can use. I have no doubt I can solve the 'problems' you mention once we have created our own transporter." She looked down at Archer. "You said your Chief Engineer is in our custody?"

"Yes," he answered. He knew where this was going and he wasn't pleased.

"Transmit all designs for this device to my ship. When we have constructed our own, with the help of your Chief Engineer, you will be allowed to continue your journey. I will even grant you safe passage through _Estvali_ territory. It is several light-years back to our border. You would be delayed should you be forced to go around."

"That's…most generous of you," Archer replied, wondering just how he'd gotten himself into this situation and just how long this construction was going to take. He had the sinking feeling they were going to be stuck there for several weeks. "I'll see that the information is transmitted right away." He put in the brief order to Engineering. A startled but unquestioning Dillard acknowledged it.

"I will return to my ship now," said Vaktse.

"Of course." With mixed emotions, he guided the group back to the docking bay where their shuttle waited.

*****

Cormack had never thought being held prisoner would be dull. A quick look around the cell told her the others were just as bored. She and her security team had each stood a turn at watch, and Martinez was on her second go in the rotation. Not that there was anything _to_ watch. The narrow doorway gave a limited view of the corridor beyond, and the _Estvali_ who stood outside blocked much of that.

She glanced at Commander Tucker who sat at the table. He'd given up working on his prototype scanner and was now practically twiddling his thumbs with ennui. Stephanie was beginning to wish she'd brought her traveler's mah-jong set with her. It had been a going-away present from her sister, Kathryn, when she'd left for her tour on _Enterprise_. The small box of cards and the miniature dice would have fit easily into one of the numerous pockets of her cover-alls. Granted, it would have been unprofessional, but at this point Cormack doubted any of her companions would have faulted her on it.

Everyone was thankful for the distraction when the commander's communicator chirped. He quickly pulled it out and flipped it open. "Tucker here. Go ahead."

The team listened intently as Captain Archer's voice came from the communicator. He gave them a brief run-down of the technocratic _Estvali_ government. "So under their system, Trip, you're the most valuable member of the crew."

Trip chuckled, joking, "Hell, Captain, I could've told you that."

"That's not everything," Archer continued, his tone bringing a sober expression to the engineer's face. "In order to get out of here, we have to do them a favor."

"Favor?"

"They rule through control of technology. Well, it turns out we have some technology Captain Vaktse wants." He quickly explained the agreement he'd reached with the _Estvali_.

"I beg your pardon?" said Tucker incredulously when Archer finished.

"You heard me, Trip."

"Yes, sir. I just don't feature being stuck over here for as long as it's going to take to build a functioning transporter."

"You won't be stuck there the entire time. It'll be just like any repair work. We'll rotate engineering teams. You'll be back on _Enterprise_ every night."

Tucker pondered the last repair job they'd done on the freighter _Fortunate_. He sincerely hoped this would be a smoother assignment. "Yes, sir."

"On the up side, Commander, you'll like the _Estvali_'s engines. Malcolm says they're so powerful our sensors can't determine their extent."

"You're assuming I'll get a look at them," Tucker answered morosely.

"Relax, Trip. You're starting to sound as pessimistic as Mr. Reed. Archer out."

Trip closed his communicator, looked at his companions. "You heard?" They nodded. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced toward the door. Tucking his communicator back into his sleeve pocket, he stood. "Apparently, so did our hosts."

They all turned to look at Amvtou who stood outside the cell. He waved a hand, and the energy barrier disappeared. "My apologies," he said deferentially. "Please come with me." He bowed his head slightly as he gestured for them to exit the holding cell.

They stepped out into the corridor—Cormack first, as before, followed by Tucker, Martinez, and Griffith. Amvtou led them deeper into the ship and up several decks before stopping in front of a large set of doors. 

"Enter," said a voice from the other side of the doors although none of the humans could see any sign their arrival had been detected.

Their guide waved a hand across another panel, and the doors slid open. On the other side was the most advanced technology Trip had ever seen. He doubted even the late Daniels would have been able to decipher it all; and it certainly put anything he'd seen of the Vulcans' to shame.

"Which of you is Tucker?" asked Vaktse, approaching from across the huge, vaulted room.

The commander stepped forward to stand beside Cormack. "That's me," he said.

"And these others? Are they technicians?"

Trip surveyed the trio, deciding what the best answer would be. "Depends," he said at last. "They're all familiar with the transporter, if that's what you're asking."

"But can they construct it?"

"Probably not."

"Then they will return to _Enterprise_," she said dismissively.

"Now wait a minute," Trip began, just as Cormack was about to protest. "I can't do this by myself."

"Of course not. I will work with you, and Archer is sending what he called an Engineering Team to assist. I don't see this transporter as taking a long time to construct."

He looked at her doubtfully. "Excuse me, but what exactly do you see as a 'long time'?" His mind flashed to Vulcans and their 200-year life spans, and the even more long-lived Axanar.

"No more than three days, if I understand your time scale accurately."

Vaktse's comment made Trip wonder if she did understand their time scale accurately. It seemed unlikely. Three days to build a transporter that didn't just work, but worked in conjunction with _Estvali_ technology? Trip had sincere doubts. "What makes you think our power sources are even compatible?" he wanted to know. "Or that you'll have the materials you need to do this? I can tell you straight up we don't have them on board _Enterprise_."

"I've thoroughly reviewed your schematics. We have much of what will be needed in our ship's stores. What we don't have, we can construct. Adapting the power system is a simple matter."

"You think so?"

"I do." Vaktse turned to her head of security. "Amvtou, escort these three to their vessel."

"Captain," Cormack spoke up quickly. "Request permission to remain aboard."

The _Estvali_ looked at her disparagingly. "Why?"

The ensign was ready; she'd thought up her argument while the others were talking systems. She crossed mental fingers, hoping she'd understood Archer's explanation of the _Estvali_ hierarchy correctly. "Commander Tucker is too valuable an individual to allow to remain here unguarded. Meaning no disrespect, but it's my job to protect him." She waited, forcing herself not to fidget under the alien captain's stare. She was banking on a similar policy being in place in the _Estvali_ administrative structure.

"Very well. You may remain. What do you know of the transporter?"

"I'm qualified to operate it."

"That will do. Stay with Tucker. Otherwise, stay out of the way."

Cormack took a second to catch Martinez before she and Griffith were led away. "Juliana, I need you to do me a favor." She quickly outlined her request. Martinez nodded, saying, "Yes, ma'am."

*****

Despite all reassurances, Reed was still uneasy about the _Estvali_, and he had very mixed feelings about Cormack's unauthorized decision to remain on their ship. However, there was little to be done about it at this point as the remainder of her security team had already returned with the shuttlepod. He understood her motivation and he appreciated that it gave him someone on the inside whose main focus was keeping Trip safe. He only hoped it would turn out to be unnecessary. 

Reed contemplated the next few days as he made his way to Engineering. He wasn't looking forward to them. He wished there was a way to complete this job without putting more people at risk. All Archer's assurances of the _Estvali_'s supposedly peaceful nature couldn't convince him it was safe to continue to maintain a presence on their ship. As a result, he was planning to coordinate with Dillard on the crews to be sent over. He wanted to make sure there was at least one security guard assigned to accompany each engineering team.

He was aware he was obsessing a bit. (While he didn't buy into astrology, he knew this was one very Virgo trait he couldn't deny.) If only he could be two places at once—_Enterprise_ and _Mskretu_—he'd be satisfied. He remembered Trip's recommendation made shortly before leaving that morning: relax. Malcolm took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't help much. 

_I'm going to have to get Cormack to teach me some of those yoga relaxation tricks,_ he thought. _Once she gets back and I've had a chance to talk to her. She has some serious explaining to do._ He was thinking of her appointment with Dr. Douglas, which she was clearly going to miss. He'd only learned about it when Douglas contacted him to confirm that Cormack was indeed away from the ship. He hadn't thought it that important until he discovered the appointment had been made at Dr. Phlox's order. Apparently, the Denobulan had only released her from sickbay under this specific provision.

It suddenly occurred to him that he'd never had the chance to ask her just why she'd been late that morning, either. He'd fully intended to; after her odd behavior in the mess hall the previous night, her tardy arrival had raised a red flag in his mind. But it would all have to wait, as she'd clearly intended. Reed set thoughts of his errant officer aside as he entered Main Engineering. He quickly found Dillard, and the two began to go over the team assignments.

*****

Malcolm couldn't be certain, but Trip sounded almost like he was having fun. He listened as the engineer made his report over the comm system to Archer on the Bridge.

"I'm telling you, Captain, you wouldn't believe the machine shop they've got here! They've been able to make every component we need to construct this transporter. I think it really is going to take only a few days to finish it."

"That's good to hear, Commander," Archer replied, smiling. "I know I for one will be glad when we can be on our way."

"I wouldn't go that far, sir. I could spend months exploring all the _Estvali_'s system without getting bored."

"Sorry, Trip. Enjoy it while you can. We're leaving as soon at you're done over there."

"Yes, sir. Tucker out."

Over on the _Estvali_ ship, work on the transporter was progressing rapidly. Tucker looked at Cormack. "Hand me that plasma torch, will you?" She passed him the item. "So, how're _you_ doing, Ensign? You're not bored, are you?" he kidded.

"No, sir." She grinned. While part of her was ready to be home, she wasn't in the least sorry to have extended her stay. She had her own reasons for not wanting to be on _Enterprise_ right then. And Commander Tucker was right; there was a lot they could learn from the _Estvali_, given the opportunity. Unfortunately, it looked like the _Estvali_ weren't planning to share. They didn't exactly keep their technology under lock and key, but the humans' access was extremely limited. She'd made mental notes and taken scans whenever possible. Hopefully, she'd be able to bring back some useful information on the weapons and defensive systems for Lieutenant Reed.

She knew she'd be in trouble when she got back—most particularly with Doctors Phlox and Douglas. There wasn't much she could do to appease the medical personnel, but she hoped that by going the extra mile on this mission she'd have her C.O.'s support when explaining to them just why she'd blown off her appointment with the psychiatrist. It was iffy reasoning at best. She knew it, and she held onto it all the same.

*****

In the end, Vaktse's estimate turned out to be wrong. It hadn't taken three days to construct the transporter. It had taken two. Trip was telling Malcolm about it over breakfast once _Enterprise_ had said good-bye to the _Estvali_ and was once again on its way.

"Any time I needed a component, I just asked and it was there in less that five minutes. And you should've seen their engines!" he exclaimed for the nth time. "Fantastic! I can't even begin to describe them." 

Malcolm smiled. Tucker's enthusiasm was contagious. It was fun listening to him gush about the alien technology, if only because he was so very excited about it. Trip paused in his praise and took a swallow of orange juice. Reed wasn't surprised he was thirsty—he'd been going non-stop for several minutes. The lieutenant took the brief window of opportunity to say, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"You should've seen it. I didn't get a real good look at their weapons, but I know Cormack was taking notes. Have you managed to make anything of the information she brought back yet?"

Reed's smile faded slightly. "A bit. I've seen the scans she took, but I haven't gotten to talk to her about what she saw over there. Actually," he added a little awkwardly, "I wanted to ask you something about Ensign Cormack."

Trip looked at him quizzically. "What?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure how to put this." He took a drink of his tea, considering carefully. "Did she seem like herself while you were together on the _Estvali_ ship?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's been acting a little strangely lately. I wondered if you noticed anything?"

"I really couldn't say," Tucker had to admit. "I don't know her that well. Just what I've seen in the past few days. She seemed fine to me. Why?"

"Nothing." Malcolm gave a dismissive shake of his head.

Trip gave him one of his patented "bullshit" looks. Reed rolled his eyes causing the engineer to laugh. "You wouldn't've brought it up if it was nothing," Trip insisted.

"I suppose you're right."

"So? What's up?"

"I can't put my finger on it. That's the problem. She was late to her duty shift the other morning—the morning when we met the _Estvali_. That in itself's not such a big deal. But then there was the whole incident in the jefferies tube, and she managed to maneuver her way around an appointment she'd been ordered to make."

"Ordered by who?"

"Dr. Phlox. I don't know all the details, but by taking the assignment on the _Estvali_ ship, she broke the appointment. Technically, I don't feel I can reprimand her as she was doing her job, but..." He paused and took a bite of toast as he thought it over. "D'you know, Phlox told me she hadn't even eaten that morning."

"You said she was running late," said Trip, finding it perfectly logical.

"But to volunteer for an away mission of unknown duration without knowing what conditions would be like when she hadn't had so much as her ritual cup of coffee? That's bordering on irresponsible."

"Okay, so it wasn't the smartest thing to do," Tucker agreed, taking a bite of his own breakfast. He washed it down with another swallow of juice before continuing. "She never said a word about it when we were on that ship, though."

"That's not the point."

"Okay. So what _is_ the point?" he asked sincerely. "You're shooting down every argument I make, so what is it you're really trying to get at?"

Malcolm looked at Trip and saw the genuine interest in his face. He pulled his thoughts together before answering. "I guess I feel as though she lied to me," he said at last. "There was a medical reason she should have stayed on _Enterprise_. Someone else could have gone in her place, but I didn't have all the facts when I allowed her to go over there."

"You mean she played you."

"I suppose so."

"Have you talked to her at all?"

"No. She's very cleverly managed to avoid me whenever she's been on board the last two days."

"How the hell'd she manage that?" Trip wanted to know.

"If I knew that…"

"Right. But she's made it to duty shifts, right?"

"Oh yes. Can't fault her there. But being your personal body guard for the duration of the mission, she spent quite a bit of that time off the ship," he said, tension growing in his voice.

"That was pretty funny, actually," Trip said, not noticing the change in Malcolm's tone. "It was real clever the way she maneuvered Captain Vaktse to let her stay on board." Reed just looked at him. "What?"

"It was that clever maneuvering that got her out of the appointment with Dr. Douglas _and_ allowed her to continue to put it off."

"Huh. I see your point. So what are you going to do?"

"Hunt her down and corner her like the fox she's being, I suppose. It's not what I want to do, but I'm having trouble coming up with another option."

"Well, here's your chance. Look who just walked in." Trip gestured with a tilt of his head toward the mess hall door.

Reed looked up and spotted Cormack immediately. She was following her standard pattern of claiming a large mug and heading with it to the drinks dispenser. "Excellent. If you'll excuse me?" Not expecting an answer, he stood and began wending his way through the crowded room to where Cormack stood in line.

He was less than half way to her when he was unexpectedly waylaid.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," said Ensign Mayweather, appearing as if from nowhere at his elbow.

"Good morning."

"I hear the French toast is really good today," Travis continued, sticking close to Reed as he continued his trip across the room.

"I couldn't say," the lieutenant offered distractedly. He was trying to keep an eye on Cormack through the changing mass of people. She was nearly to the front of the beverage line. If he didn't catch her soon, it was a good bet she'd be out the door before he got within speaking distance.

"No?" continued Mayweather. "It's a favorite of mine. You should give it a try." Somehow, the ensign had managed to interpose himself between Reed and Cormack and now blocked the path to her. Malcolm found himself caught in the press of people queued up to fill up their breakfast plates.

"Thanks for the recommendation, but I've already eaten," said Reed as pleasantly as he could. "I was actually on my way out." He peered around the tall young man and could just see Cormack collecting her filled mug from the dispenser.

"Oh. Well, don't let me keep you," Travis continued genially, filling up his plate with a small mountain of French toast. "I'll catch you later."

Stephanie was just heading out the door. "Right. Later," agreed Malcolm, squeezing out of the queue and quickly following after her. When he stepped out into the corridor, she was no where in sight. Still, he knew where she was supposed to be going. He hurried down the corridor, hoping to catch her before she reached the lift. 

Travis watched his hasty exit, puzzled.

"What was that about?" asked Cutler, coming up behind him in the line.

"Beats me," Travis said. "But he sure was in a hurry to get somewhere."

"Probably the Armory. Stephanie said she brought back some information on the _Estvali_'s defensive systems. He's probably anxious to take a look at what she found."

"That must be it."

Across the room, Trip had witnessed the whole scene. Not normally the suspicious type, he still had to wonder if Travis hadn't made his entrance a little too conveniently. The sight of his quiet conversation with Cutler afterward only raised more doubts. He knew Cutler and Cormack were bunkmates, just as he knew Cutler and Mayweather were an item. It wasn't unreasonable to think they were in cahoots with Cormack's efforts to avoid her C.O. He shook his head. Accidentally or not, Travis had managed to distract Reed just long enough for Cormack to make her escape. She couldn't keep it up forever, but it was going to be interesting to see just how long she could go.

As it turned out, it wasn't nearly as long as she'd hoped.

"Hold the lift?"

For a split second Cormack considered acting as though she hadn't heard him, but good sense won out. She hit the button to stop the lift door from closing, allowing Lieutenant Reed to join her.

"Ensign," he said pleasantly.

"Lieutenant," she answered, trying to remain nonchalant. "Going to the Armory?"

"Yes."

Cormack requested the deck and took a sip of her latté as the lift engaged. The two officers stood in silence for several seconds until Reed reached out and the pressed the stop button. The lift came to an immediate halt.

"Sir?" Stephanie looked at him questioningly, although she knew perfectly well what was going on.

"How long were you planning to play hide and seek?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't know—" But she stopped herself. She wasn't a liar by nature, and damned if she was going to start now. "As long as I could get away with it, eh," she said instead.

"Do you plan on explaining that?"

She stared into her mug, intently studying the tiny bubbles in the foam. "I'm not sure I can," she answered finally.

"Listen," said Reed. "I'm not asking you to tell me what your appointment with Dr. Douglas was about or why Dr. Phlox ordered you to make it. I _am_ asking why you chose to ignore that order. You made me an unwitting accomplice, you know. I don't appreciate being used like that."

"I didn't mean to do that to you. I just…needed to get away for a little bit. The assignment to the _Estvali_ ship seemed like the perfect solution." She was still looking down into her mug, unable to make eye contact with her superior.

"You put me a very awkward position, and you didn't have enough respect for me to let me in on it."

"I'm sorry, sir. Really. I didn't want to put you in the middle of this."

"Ensign, I don't even know what 'this' is." He said it gently, not wanting to upset her more than she already was but needing to make his point clear. He watched Stephanie, concerned. He'd never been much good at emotional confrontations—as evidenced by his actions last month when she had reached out to him—but he felt the need to do something now. If only he could figure out what.

Finally, Stephanie looked up and met his worried gaze. It was nearly enough to undo her. _Pull yourself together, dipshit,_ she cursed at herself. _Since when are you such a wuss? What're you going to do? Burst into tears in front of your boss? Oh yeah. _That's_ professional._ She took a deep, calming breath before she spoke. When she did, it was simply to say, "I'm not entirely sure. That's the problem."

Malcolm was at a loss. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"There's something wrong. I know there's something wrong. But I don't know what it is, or what to do about it." She was fighting back tears again, and she wasn't happy about it. She was trying hard to keep herself under control when Reed spoke up.

"Maybe you should talk to Dr. Douglas." He knew it was an inane suggestion, but it got the response he was hoping for.

Cormack was immediately on the offensive. She glared at him, her eyes flashing. "Well, duh!" she said angrily. She continued to glare at him for several more seconds until she realized what he'd done. She laughed suddenly with the release of tension, and Malcolm smiled.

"That's the Cormack I recognize," he said. He released the lift to continue its downward course. "I understand you have another appointment with Dr. Douglas scheduled for this afternoon."

"I do?"

"You do. It's at 1630 hours. Will you require an escort?"

Stephanie almost choked on her latté. "You wouldn't."

Reed gave her a look that clearly said, _Oh wouldn't I?_

"Shit." She sighed. "An escort won't be necessary. Thank you, sir."

Malcolm relented and chuckled. "Fair enough," he said. In a more serious tone, he added, "You know you can come to me, don't you? Either as your C.O. or as your friend. I can't claim to have any answers, but I do know how to listen."

Cormack considered for a moment before quietly replying. "Thanks. I'll try to remember it from now on."

*****

End Log 12  
_(Completed 14 Jan 01)_

Continued in Log 13


	13. Log 13

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 13**  
(Takes place immediately preceding, during, and immediately following _Silent Enemy_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

Cormack stood in front of the door, one hand poised to ring the chime. Had it been an option she would have turned around and walked away. Unfortunately, it wasn't an option. Wishing she were anywhere but where she was, she rang the chime.

"Come in," came the immediate response.

Reluctantly, she opened the door and stepped into the room. It was a small cabin, sparsely but comfortably furnished with a couch, chair, small desk, and a case with a number of books in it. A tall blond man was seated at the desk, typing something into the computer. He glanced up and smiled. "Have a seat, Ensign. I'll be just a second."

She took a seat on the edge of the couch and glanced around. There were a variety of diplomas on one wall but she didn't bother to go to the effort of reading them. Her eye caught the small, framed photo next to the computer console, and she leaned a little forward to get a better look.

Dr. Douglas noticed and said genially, "My niece. That was taken on her first birthday. Isn't she the sweetest thing? I swear, sometimes I think I could just eat her up."

"She's cute," agreed Cormack. "I have a nephew who's three. Hewasn't a cute baby."

Douglas chuckled. "Oh dear! And what did his parents do when you said that?"

"Kathryn was a little pissed. Gemma just laughed. She acted like she thought I was joking, but I think it was because she agreed with me but knew she couldn't say it without getting in serious trouble."

He glanced at her as he finished typing. Unable to hide his surprise, he said, "You told your sister her baby wasn't cute?"

"She asked," Stephanie replied matter-of-factly. "She knows better than to ask me a question if she doesn't want my honest opinion. She's had plenty of time to figure that out. I mean, I love my sister, but the kid was ugly. He's cute now," she offered, unexpectedly feeling like some sort of atonement was necessary.

The psychiatrist chuckled again. "Well, I can see you're honest. That's a good way start to our relationship."

"Huh?" She was suddenly on the defensive. "Is _that_ what this was about? You were just tricking me into telling you something about myself? Oh my gods. Is this even really your niece?" she demanded, pointing at the photo.

"Of course it's my niece. I don't keep the picture there to entrap patients, and I had no intention of tricking you." Douglas sat back in his chair, rubbed a hand over his Vandyke beard. "I'm sorry if that's what you think."

Cormack shrugged. "It's okay. I mean, it's my mistake, right? No offense."

"None taken." He regarded her across the desk. She was still sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch—on the end closest to the door. "Sit back and relax, Ensign. May I call you Stephanie?" Cormack shrugged again. "So, Stephanie, why don't you tell me why you're here," he said pleasantly.

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you here?"

"Because Dr. Phlox told me I had to be."

"I understand this appointment wasn't your idea. Why do you think he had you make it?"

"Haven't you read the medical report? He must have given it to you."

"I'd like to _you_ to tell me."

Cormack heaved an annoyed sigh. "Fine," she said sharply. "I freaked out in one of the jefferies tubes and Dr. Phlox decided it was a bigger deal that it really was."

"It wasn't a big deal?"

"No! That's what I tried to tell him at the time!"

"But your C.O. felt it was a big enough deal to send you to sickbay."

She shrugged noncommittally. "You know Lieutenant Reed. He's a great C.O., but he's a bit of a worrier."

"Is he? I don't really know him."

"It comes with the territory, I suppose. I mean, it's his job to keep the ship and the crew safe, right? So naturally he's going to be a littleprotective, I guess."

"So you think he overreacted?"

"A little," Cormack admitted. She didn't like saying something about Malcolm that might be misconstrued as negative.

"But the medical report I read said you had been injured."

"It was no big deal."

"And you hadn't eaten."

Cormack was growing more and more annoyed. "I overslept. I was running late. It was no big deal," she said more emphatically. "Listen, doctor—"

"Please, call me Kyrin."

"I'd rather not. That implies that this is a friendly conversation when we both know what's really going on. "

"All right. You're certainly entitled to that opinion."

"Am I? 'Cause I'm just here because I was told I had to be. Far as I know, I'm not allowed an opinion in this matter."

"Come on," said Douglas, his pleasant tenor voice contrasting strongly with her angry alto. "You obviously have an opinion. From what little I know of you, you're not afraid to voice those opinions."

"So if I tell you I think this is crap, you're going to say I'm entitled to _that_ opinion, too?" she asked sarcastically.

"Sure. That doesn't mean you're going to get out of this, however." He interlaced his fingers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. He faced down her irate glare with a neutral expression. "Listen, Stephanie. You're here under duress; you've made that abundantly clear. But I'm not the enemy. I just want to help. I'm willing to bet there's enough fighting going on inside your head that you don't need to pick another fight out here with me. So, what do you say?"

Cormack looked at him carefully. She wanted to seesomething—biases, deceptions, agendas—she wasn't sure what. There was nothing like that. All she could see was another human being trying to do his job, and that job was to help her. She sighed and slumped back on the couch.

"It's like what Dr. Phlox said to me the other day," she said finally.

"What was that?"

"He said the less I fought him, the quicker I could get back to work."

"Smart guy."

"Yeah."

When she didn't offer anything more Douglas asked, "Is that your only concern, then? Getting back to work?"

"Sure. There's a lot to do. It's been a busy week."

"I'm sure it has. First the pilgrims of Agosoria, then the Suliban, and after that the _Estvali_. And I believe we're scheduled to deploy a new subspace amplifier tomorrow. Quite a busy week. It certainly sounds like you've had a lot of work to do."

"Yeah."

There was another small pause. "So," prompted Douglas, "that's all it is? Anxiety about work?" 

"Well, sure," said Cormack. 

"But you were working when you had the panic attack in the jefferies tube. Why do you think that was?" He looked at her with a friendly and inquiring expression on his round face.

Stephanie didn't answer. She just stared back at him, thinking. It had been hard enough to admit even what little she had to Malcolm—and he was a friend. He was someone she already knew she could trust. But Douglas on the other hand He had an advantage over her, and she didn't like that. He already knew more about her than she did about him. Finally, Stephanie broke the silence.

"You first," she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"You first. Tell me something about you I don't know."

"Anything in particular?"

"I don't know. Something I wouldn't find out even if I went into the crew manifests."

"Hmm. You already know I have a niece. Her name is Leia." He considered for a moment. "I'm 36 years old, but that's in the file. I'm terrified of flying."

"Wait. What? Are you serious?" She looked at him doubtfully.

"Absolutely."

"And you work in space."

"Flying within a planet's atmosphere," he clarified. "It's a gravity issue. I'm working on it."

She stared at him for several seconds trying to determine if he was kidding. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. "Oh my gods. You're serious!"

Douglas gave her an ironic smile in return. "I'm afraid so."

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to catch her breath. "I don't mean to laugh at you. That was just so unexpected. Sorry."

"No need to apologize," he assured her. "It _is_ funny, given my choice of working environment." He waited for her to calm down a bit more before continuing. "Feel better now?" he asked at last.

She met his open, friendly gaze with her own. "Yeah. I do."

"Okay. Then let's try this again. Why don't you tell me why you're here?"

*****

Somehow, he just couldn't help himself. "Don't fall over," said Reed to the precariously balanced Cormack.

Predictably, she started to waver. The arm that was in front of her flailed out to one side as she tried to maintain her balance, but it was too late. Letting go of the foot she held up behind her, she staggered a few steps before awkwardly regaining her footing.

She gave Malcolm a joking glare. "With all due respect—" she began.

"Uh oh," interjected Reed in mock fear.

"—you little shit!" She laughed, and he joined her.

"What was that pose, anyway?"

"It _was_ the standing bow. Now, it's me standing here doing this." She stuck out her tongue.

Reed laughed harder. "You're in a much better mood than you were this morning," he said. He took a seat on the bench that ran along one wall of the gym. Pulling a roll of tape out of a pocket, he wrapped his feet and hands as they talked.

"I am in a much better mood," Stephanie agreed. She grabbed her towel and plopped onto the bench next to him. She wiped the fine sheen of sweat from her hands and face.

"I'm almost afraid to ask?" he began.

She knew where he was heading and let him off the hook. "My meeting with Dr. Douglas wentbetter than I expected. No stunning revelations, of course, but it was a start."

"I'm glad."

"Me, too. And now I'm here, fulfilling the rest of Dr. Phlox's prescription."

"Yoga? But you've always done that," Malcolm said, puzzled.

"I'd fallen off the yoga mat, so to speak." She raised an ironic eyebrow at him. Reed had the decency to shrug contritely. Stephanie chuckled and let it go. "We've been so busy the past couple of weeks, I haven't had time for yoga. Phlox said I should get back in the habit."

"Any reason?"

"Yeah," she said, suddenly hesitant.

Reed looked up from his task. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay. You remember what happened in the jefferies tube the other morning?"

"I'm not likely to forget. You scared the hell out of me, you know."

"I—" She wasn't sure what to say. That he would state his concern for her so blatantly took her by surprise. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," he replied quickly. "I know it wasn't intentional. But I interrupted. Go on."

"Dr. Phlox said I had a panic attack—brought on by claustrophobia, of all things."

"Claustrophobia?" Reed was stunned. His eyes widened as he recalled something. "And I trapped us in the lift between decks just the morning. I'm so sorry!"

"No, it was fine," she assured him quickly. "_I_ was fine. I'm not claustrophobic. That's why Phlox sent me to Dr. Douglas. And why he told me I should get back to my yoga. Which, if you'll excuse me" She stood.

"I'm not going to be too distracting for you am I?" he asked.

She looked down at him where he still sat. "Only if you knock me over," she said wryly.

"Right." He grinned. "Hey, before you're standing on one foot again"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to get dinner after this?"

"You don't have a date?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly.

"It's a school night," he joked. "Trip's dining with the Captain and Sub-commander T'Pol."

"Then you're on. Now go beat up your punching bag. I'm sure it's getting lonely."

*****

Dinner turned out to be a larger affair than either had anticipated. They'd only been seated a few minutes when Mayweather and Cutler appeared. "Mind if we join you?" asked Liz. "It's kind of crowded tonight." She glanced around the busy mess hall and looked back to Reed and Cormack.

"Not at all," said Malcolm, ever the gentleman. "Please."

"Thanks." She and Travis sat.

"The fish looks great, doesn't it?" said Stephanie, noticing her bunkmate's choice of dinner options matched her own.

"Yeah. I love halibut! I tried to convince Travis here to try it but"

"I'm a meat and potatoes kind of guy," the handsome helmsman said with a smile. "What can I say?"

"I'm not terribly fond of fish myself," agreed Reed around a bite of steak. "I tried when I was living in San Francisco, but it wasn't my thing."

"Too bad. There's a lot of great seafood in San Francisco. I remember there was this one restaurant I used to just love. On the Embarcadero," Cormack said enthusiastically. "Can't remember what it was called for the life of me."

"That one with all the icons on the walls, and the heavy wood beams?" asked Cutler.

"Yeah! What was it called?"

Liz shook her head. "I don't remember."

"I know the one you mean. I actually ate there several times," put in Malcolm.

"And you don't like fish?" demanded Stephanie. "Explain."

"My friend Mark liked to go there. We were there so often we got to know one of the waitresses pretty well—charming young woman named Maureen. I think Mark might have fancied her. He always made sure we were seated in her section, at any rate. You can make of that what you will."

Stephanie chuckled. She turned to her bunkmate. "So, Liz, how'd that experiment you were working on come out? Did the bugs breed?"

Liz blushed. She wanted to smack her friend, but didn't want to give away their "secret code" if she could help it. Instead, she quickly collected herself while the men at the table exchanged a mildly puzzled glance. "No," she said. "We haven't gotten the conditions quite right on that experiment yet. The female keeps going through the mating postures, but the male seemsindifferent so far."

"What experiment is that?" asked Travis.

"Just something I've been working on. How's the steak?"

"Great!" He took another bite to emphasize the point.

With Travis successfully distracted for a brief moment, Liz took the opportunity to shoot a quick glare at Stephanie. Cormack just grinned teasingly and gave a quick wiggle of her eyebrows. Malcolm caught the exchange between the women. He suddenly realized what they were really talking about—and just as suddenly wished he hadn't. He turned to Travis.

"So, Travis, are you excited about launching the subspace amplifier tomorrow?"

"You know, it's funny," the helmsman said thoughtfully. "I feel like I should be more excited than I am. Maybe it's because my family'll still be out of range. It'll be good to get more news from Earth, though."

"I can't wait," said Stephanie emphatically. "I haven't gotten a baseball update in a month! I'm going nuts!"

"You see what I have to live with?" Cutler joked. "I don't know if it'll be better or worse once she knows what's happened."

"Better! Much better!" insisted her bunkmate.

"That's _your_ opinion. Besides, I thought _hockey_ was your national pastime."

"That's my _nation's_ pastime, not mine. I'm a firm believer in the sanctity of baseball," Stephanie declared proudly.

"You're a nut." Everyone chuckled at Cutler's simple statement of fact.

Cormack accepted the declaration with a good-natured shrug. "All right. What are _you_ looking forward to, then?" she asked.

"Talking to my _family_." Liz pointedly drew out the word "family."

"I'm looking forward to that, too," Stephanie insisted. Intentionally playing on her bunkmate's belief that she was completely hopeless, she added mischievously, "Where did you think I was going to get the latest stats? And Wilson was on the DL last I heard. I need to know if he's back in the line-up!"

Cutler just shook her head and laughed.

"How about you?" Stephanie looked at Malcolm. "What are you looking forward to once we get the new amplifier up and running?"

"Oh, I don't know," he answered noncommittally. "Right now I'm just looking forward to a clean launch."

*****

Trip's day had started out fine. The amplifier was launched without any hitches—despite the appearance and disappearance of the unidentified alien vessel. Everything was running smoothly. He'd gotten a number of letters from home, and he enjoyed catching up on what his family had been doing over the past several weeks. There were also plenty of engineering updates to read. Then he read the letter from Natalie—the 'Dear John' letter. It didn't surprise him. She was in Pensacola; he was 100 light-years from Earth. 

He sighed, thinking, _Chalk up another one in the failed relationships column. Keep it up, Trip, and you might just make it to an even dozen before you turn 40._ A thought suddenly struck him. Malcolm had asked him out, and he'd accepted_before_ he'd officially split up with Natalie. How the hell was he going to explain _that_? Why the hell had he _done_ that? He supposed he'd known for a long time it wasn't going to work out with Natalie, but that didn't justify it. He was sure the ship's counselor would have a field day if he knew about it; there were bound to be a great variety of psychological issues involved. 

He put the thought out of his mind. He knew he'd have to deal with it before long, but right now he had enough work to do to keep him happily distracted.

He was busy working when Captain Archer and Porthos caught up with him. The men talked as they worked their way along the deck, checking systems. The little beagle trotted eagerly along with them. As they entered Main Engineering, Archer asked, "What's the word from home?"

"Oh, the usual: engineering updates," Trip answered. "Oh, and Duval got promoted. They're giving him the _Shenandoah_."

"Duval got his own command? Thank god we're a hundred light-years away," Archer said only half-joking. Trip could only agree.

Then it came down to it. If there was anyone he could tell, it was Jon. "And I got a letter from Natalie."

"_The_ Natalie? From Pensacola?" Archer asked.

"Yep. Natalie from Pensacola," Trip replied unenthusiastically. He checked his scanner. "Looks like we've got a charge imbalance in this manifold. I'll get right on it."

Jon looked at him, concerned. His tone was a far cry from the way he'd heard his friend talk about Natalie in the past. "Trip?"

Tucker gave a small shrug. "They say long-distance relationships never work. Well, this is about as long-distance as you can get."

"You okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I just I just wish I'd have had the chance to say good-bye face-to-face," he answered. He walked past the Captain. Archer followed him out into the corridor.

Sensing Trip wasn't ready to say more just then, Archer changed the subject. "Let me ask you something. Do you spend much time with Malcolm?"

Tucker was glad for the change—he only wished Jon hadn't chosen that particular topic. "I was in the Armory yesterday for a few hours swapping out some power relays," he offered, knowing full well he wasn't directly answering the question.

"You talk about anything interesting?"

"Power relays."

"I talked to his parents this morning."

"Really?" He stopped at a junction, scanned the systems. He'd never heard Malcolm mention his parents, although he had a vague recollection of passing comment about a sister somewhere.

"Yeah." Archer glanced over one shoulder at Porthos. "Stay here," he said quietly. Obediently, the beagle sat. He glanced back to Trip. "If I asked your parents what you like to eat, would they be able to tell me?"

"Are you kidding?" They continued down another corridor followed closely by the little dog. "My mom would give you her recipe for pan-fried catfish and wouldn't let you go until you promised not to screw it up."

Archer chuckled. Then his expression turned serious once more. "Malcolm's parents didn't know what his favorite food was. They didn't even know he was an armory officer."

Trip was stunned. He knew Malcolm was a very private individual, but it had never occurred to him that would extend to his family. It made him feel even worse about what he'd done. _I've got to talk to him,_ he thought. _Tell him about Natalie. It's only fair to give him the chance to back out._ It was fatalistic of him, but he couldn't help thinking it. 

Burying all his conflicting and confusing emotions, he said simply, "That's strange."

Caught up in his own musings, Archer didn't notice Trip's hesitation. "It made me think," he said. "We don't know that much about Malcolm, do we?" 

Trip was carefully considering his response when the comm beeped and T'Pol's voice came through the speaker. "Bridge to the Captain."

Archer hit the comm panel to respond. "Go ahead."

"The alien vessel has returned."

The men exchanged a look before Archer headed quickly for the bridge and Tucker hurried back to Engineering.

*****

The attack was brief, and the damage was limited. They'd been lucky. Still, Trip didn't think it was reason enough to head back to Earth. Malcolm had to agree. Understandably, the Captain wanted the phase cannons installed in case of another attack. They believed they could do it on their own. The three were in the Armory, arguing the point.

"Just give us two weeks, Captain," insisted Reed.

"I know we can do it. Most of the stuff we need is already on the ship," Trip added.

But Archer was adamant. "The armory team at Jupiter Station is trained for this kind of work. If we're going to _do_ this, let's do it _right_."

"My engineers are just as good as they are."

"I know that, Trip. But we have other systems that could use overhauls." He paused, looked at the engineer. "Look at the bright side. You'll get a chance to say good-bye to Natalie." He turned to go and so missed the expressions on the faces of both officers.

Reed was the first to pull himself together. "Sir?" he began, stopping Archer at the door. "With your permission we could at least begin the work. Get a few things started for Jupiter Station."

Trip was tremendously grateful for the diversion. This wasn't how he'd wanted to bring the subject of Natalie up with Malcolm, and this _really_ wasn't the time to deal with it. He looked at Archer and said, "It'll cut down the time we have to spend in spacedock."

The captain considered the two officers. They clearly believed in what they were saying and wanted this opportunity to prove themselves. He couldn't deny them that. "Do what you can," he said. He tapped the comm panel. "Archer to Mayweather."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"We're heading home."

*****

Hoshi wasn't the kind of person who shirked her duties. She certainly wasn't the kind of person who went against a direct order from her Captain. However, that didn't stop the idea from crossing her mind. For a split second she contemplated trying to pass her assignment off to Dr. Douglas. He was accustomed to delving into people's lives and learning their secrets; her skill lay in deciphering languages, not people. With a sigh, she let the idea go.

After Archer's dead end with Lieutenant Reed's parents, he'd given her the unenviable task of figuring out what Malcolm's favorite food was. She'd asked several members of his family and still she'd come up empty-handed. Now, she was taking the briefest of breaks. Between her sleuthing and the diagnostic on the subspace transceiver array, she was up to her ears in "top priority" assignments and had only just managed to steal a few minutes to relax. She entered the mess hall and picked up an empty mug. Setting it under the dispenser, she said, "Green tea, hot." She pondered her options as the drinks dispenser filled the mug with steaming tea.

The door to the mess hall opened again and inspiration struck her. "Stephanie," she said to the new arrival. She'd heard Stephanie and Malcolm were dating about a month ago. The rumor had died a quick death, but Hoshi was sure she'd seen them at dinner together more than once. It certainly couldn't hurt to ask, and she was running out of ideas.

"Hi, Hoshi," Cormack replied. She collected a mug and she and Sato traded places at the dispenser. "How's it going?"

"Not bad. The new amplifier's working okay so far, but there's still a lot to do. How about you?"

"Don't ask. The Armory is a madhouse. You ever tried building a phase cannon from scratch?"

"Thankfully, no." Sato hesitated briefly, deciding on the best way to ask. "I was wondering if you could tell me something."

"If it's quick. I really need to get back. I only managed to finagle five minutes to come grab another cup of coffee."

"It'll just take a second. You know Lieutenant Reed pretty well, right?"

"Pretty well," answered Cormack. "Why?" She collected her filled mug, took a sip.

"You wouldn't happen to know what his favorite food is, would you?"

"Favorite food?"

"Yeah. The Captain's trying to plan a surprise dinner for his birthday—"

Cormack started. "Crap!"

"Excuse me?" said Hoshi. It wasn't the reaction she'd expected.

"Nothing. Just remembered something I'd completely forgotten about. So, you need to know his favorite food for the dinner, eh?" She thought as she sipped her coffee, trying to remember if there was one thing Malcolm tended to gravitate toward when they ate together. "He's not real fond of fish," she offered, recalling the previous evening's conversation.

"That's great, but do you know what he _does_ like?"

Stephanie looked at her apologetically and shrugged. "Guinness?"

"Guinness? As in beer?"

"Yeah. I know it's not so much a food as, well, a beer"

"Frighteningly enough, it's more of an answer than I've gotten from anyone else." Hoshi sighed.

"You might try to get ahold of Mark Latrelle. He was a friend of Malcolm's when they were in Starfleet training. He's mentioned him a few times. Maybe he knows something."

"Latrelle?" the communications officer repeated just to be sure.

"Yeah."

"Great! Thanks!" Hoshi gave her a grateful smile and hurried back to her station. 

Stephanie quickly tapped the comm panel by the mess hall door. "Cormack to crewman Martinez."

"Go ahead," came the response.

Cormack continued in a hushed tone. "Juliana, did you remember to pick up that item from the Quartermaster the other day like I asked?"

"Of course. I've had it since, but everything's been so crazy I forgot to tell you."

"No problem. I'm not sure when I can catch another break to come get it from you, though."

"Shall I drop it off outside your cabin?"

"Yeah. That'd be great! Thanks, Juliana," said Cormack appreciatively.

"You're welcome."

"Cormack out." She closed the comm and took a brief second to relax before returning to the Armory.

*****

The second attack came late that evening. Reed was in the mess hall, having finally managed to take a break from the frenetic activity in the Armory. He'd brought some datapads to study while he ate. He was just refocusing his attention to them—after a brief and disconcerting interlude with Ensign Sato—when the first blows hit the ship.

He could feel the ship drop out of warp as he rushed to the window to see if he could spot the attacker. There was nothing to be seen from that angle other than the stars shifting from steaks of light to pinpoints as the ship slowed. He hurried to the comm panel by the door and hailed the Bridge. Getting no answer, he tried the Armory. Still nothing.

He glanced at the few other people in the mess hall. "Get to your stations. Move," he ordered before leaving to get to his own. He barely arrived before main power went down.

Overlooking the room from the catwalk, he could make out several figures in the dim emergency lighting. One, he thought it might be Griffith, was rapidly handing out flashlights. "Report!"

"Everything's down. Communications, engines, everything," said Trip, coming up beside him. The engineer handed him a communicator. "There's a team stuck in one of the jefferies tubes. I just sent Eddie in to find them, let them know what's going on."

"Where's Ensign Cormack?" Reed asked sharply, hoping she wasn't a member of that team.

"Right here," she answered, quickly climbing the steep staircase. "Power's out everywhere. All tactical systems are down. We've begun manual lock-downs on the torpedoes and phase cannons."

"I'm going to try to get to Engineering," Tucker said. "It's only one deck away. Shouldn't be too big a problem."

Reed nodded. "Be careful."

*****

They weren't able to fully assess the damage until main power was restored. Reed was pleased when he learned the tactical systems were unharmed. Tucker, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. He hailed the captain. 

"Go ahead," came the response.

"We've got the plasma leak under control but our port nacelle took a lot of damage."

"How long before we can go to warp?"

He hated to say it, but "A couple of days."

There was a momentary pause while Archer absorbed this new information. "What about impulse?" he wanted to know.

"Well, that's the good news," said Trip, climbing down from the central engineering station. "It should be back on-line in a few minutes."

"I'll take all the good news I can get."

Tucker heard the chirp as the comm line was closed from the other end. He spotted Dillard and Lawless consulting over a plasma manifold. "How's it going over there?" he asked. 

"I think we're ready to bring the impulse engines back on-line," Lawless answered.

"Well, that's what I just told the Captain," said Trip with a wry smile, "so I hope you're right. Let's give it a try."

They brought the systems on-line, and Tucker was glad to see green lights across the board. "Good. I'm going to the Armory—see how it's going there. If we can't get the warp engines running before those aliens come back, we're going to need all the fire power we can get. I'll be back in few minutes."

*****

The hours flew past. Cormack had long ago lost track of the time; she couldn't with any certainty even name the date. All she knew at this point was that she was exhausted. Between the installation of the new phase cannons and the enemy attacks, she was wiped out.

The aliens were gone now—turned tail and ran after _Enterprise_ managed to finally do some serious damage. Their own repairs were extensive, but not unmanageable. She'd helped get the forward cannons back on-line after the last attack, and they'd spent most of today getting the aft phase cannon up. At last, they'd all been told in no uncertain terms to get some sleep. So Cormack was turning in. Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed were the only ones left cleaning up the rest of the mess.

She passed the captain at the lift, and they nodded a greeting.

"Ensign," he said pleasantly.

"Sir," she replied. She was too tired to even notice the incongruity of what he carried: three glasses and a pitcher of what looked like beer.

She tried to be quiet as she entered her cabin, but was unable to avoid bumping into the desk chair as she made her way to her locker.

"You can turn the lights on," Cutler said quietly.

"Okay." Cormack turned around and found the switch entirely by sense memory. She turned on the light, and they both winced in reaction to the sudden brightness. "Ow." She quickly dimmed the lights. She squinted at her roommate who was just sitting up in her bunk. "Why are you up?" Stephanie flopped unceremoniously onto her own bunk and started pulling off her boots.

"Couldn't sleep," answered Liz a bit morosely.

"Something wrong?"

Liz shrugged. "Travis."

"Oh. You want to talk about it?"

"Yes, but no, you know?"

"I get it. I'm here when it's just 'yes,' eh."

"I know. Thanks." Liz decided it was time to change the subject. "There was a package in front of the door when I came back this evening. Do you know what it's about? There wasn't a note."

Stephanie perked up at this news. "Where is it?"

"There." Liz pointed to the item on the desk.

Energized by her excitement, Cormack practically leapt at it. She picked up the package and opened the paper just enough to peek inside. "Excellent!" she exclaimed happily. She quickly dug into her locker and pulled out a roll of brightly colored paper and a spool of ribbon.

Liz watched her. "What is it?" she wanted to know.

"A surprise." She quickly wrapped the bundle and tied a long string of ribbon around it. Next, she pulled a card from her locker and scribbled a quick note in it before sealing it in an envelope and tucking it under the ribbon.

"Surprise for whom?"

"Malcolm. Don't tell anyone one, but it's his birthday This is going to sound bad but, what's the date?"

"The second."

"Today, then. What time is it?"

Cutler reached up to the shelf over her head and took down the chronometer. "2338 hours," she said.

"Yikes! Only 22 minutes to go."

"Are you really going to deliver it _now_?" Liz looked at her dubiously as Stephanie sat and pulled her boots back on.

"He's still in the Armory. At least he was when I left a few minutes ago. I'm just going to drop it off at his cabin and come back." She stood and picked up the present. "Back in a few. You want me to turn the light off?"

"No. You'll just run into the chair again when you get back," Liz teased.

*****

Tucker and Reed were walking slowly back to their cabins. "I'm really looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow," said Trip tiredly.

"Me, too," agreed Malcolm. "Well done, getting the Captain to agree to that."

"I figured it couldn't hurt to ask." There was silence as they continued along the corridor. They passed no one—not surprising at that hour. It was just past 0100 hours. "You just going to turn in, then?"

Reed glanced at Trip, wondering at the hesitant tone of his question. "I was planning to. Why?"

"I don't know. I'm just still a little wound up, I guess. I thoughtmaybe we couldtalk."

Malcolm stopped walking and Trip came to an abrupt halt next to him. "Talk? About?"

Trip crossed mental fingers, hoping he wasn't doing the exact wrong thing. "AboutNatalie. There's some stuff you ought to know."

"Honestly, I don't know if I'm up to that conversation just at the moment," Malcolm said as gently as he could manage.

Tucker could only nod. "Okay," he said at last. He was upset but tried hard to hide it. It was his problem; he was the one who'd screwed up. It wasn't right to make Malcolm feel bad for not wanting to discuss it yet. "That's fair. But I want you to know I was going to tell you. I didn't mean for you to hear about her like you did."

"All right. I believe you." He met Trip's uncertain gaze with a stoic look. "Good night."

Taking the hint, Trip turned to go. He wanted to say something more but thought better of it. He continued down the corridor in silence, alone.

Reed waited until Tucker was well out of sight. He didn't want to run into the engineer again tonight. Better to wait, get a good night's sleep, and tackle the subject tomorrow. Besides, he had to figure out how he, himself, felt before he could hear what Trip had to say. _Natalie?_ he thought, shaking his head. He knew he shouldn't be surprised that Tucker's ex was a woman, but he'd never expected to be confronted with the fact quite so directly. Old lovers were one thing; the immediacy of Natalie was a bit much.

Guessing sufficient time had elapsed, Reed resumed his walk to his cabin. He was surprised when he reached it to see a largish package on the floor outside his door. It was wrapped in garishly bright paper with an almost fluorescent green ribbon. He glanced around as if the person who'd left it might be hiding near by, but the corridor was silent and empty.

He considered opening the card right then but decided against it. Instead, he keyed in his unlock code and stepped into the cabin. The door shut, and he turned on the lights, balancing the awkward and oddly squishy package under one arm. Figuring anything that soft wasn't likely to break, he tossed it onto his bunk and sat down next to it.

The envelope was unlabeled, and he looked at it dubiously before sliding a finger under the flap and opening it. Reed chuckled when he saw the front of the card. It was homemade and decorated by someone with obviously limited artistic skill, but the stick figures were still clearly identifiable—despite the party hats. He opened up the card and read the note that was scribbled inside.

_Malcolm—  
Couldn't find any paisley but I think this is much nicer than plain old white.  
Happy B-day!  
Stephanie_

Reed had a fair guess as to what the package contained now, and he ripped off the layers of paper. He was right. He laughed again as he held up the bathrobe. It was just like any other Starfleet issue robe except for one thing—it had been dyed to a dark claret color.

*****

End Log 13  
_(Completed 22 Jan 02)_

Continued in Log 14


	14. Log 14

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

**Secondary Disclaimer** – The bands herein are completely fictitious. If anyone is out there actually going by these band names, I've never heard of them... But I wish them luck, 'cause they've chosen very cool names, IMO. :-)

*****

**Log 14**  
(This takes place preceding and during the events of the episode _Dear Doctor_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

Cormack glanced up from her book as the cabin door opened and her bunkmate entered. Cutler's normally cheerful visage was rigid with anger. The door shut automatically behind her and she turned to face it.

"Some days I really wish this door was hinged," she snarled.

"And that would be why?"

"So I could slam it!" Cutler sat heavily on her bunk then bounded up again and began pacing the narrow piece of floor in the middle of the room.

"Okay." Cormack was wary. Her bunkmate didn't often get angry—at least not that she'd witnessed. It was a daunting and impressive sight. "You want to talk about it? Or do you just want to pace and be pissed off for now?" It was an honest question sincerely asked.

Liz stopped her pacing and looked at Stephanie. "Men!" she exclaimed.

"Ah." Stephanie tucked a marker into her book and set it aside. "Talk to me."

"Why do they think they have sole claim over the women they date?"

"I don't know. Did you have an example in mind?"

"Travis."

"I guessed that much. Come on." She patted the bunk next to her. "Sit. Tell me what's up."

Cutler sat. "I invited Phlox to go to the movie with me tonight, and now Travis is mad at me. He already said he didn't want to see it. So why should he get mad at me for asking someone else?"

"You asked Travis first?"

"Yes! Pay attention!"

Stephanie decided to let the outburst pass. She knew Liz wasn't angry with her; she was just a convenient target at the moment. If it continued, however

"I mean," Liz was saying, "we never said we wouldn't see other people. We never made any kind of commitment. Hell! We've been going out for over a month, and we haven't even slept together!" She stopped short, realizing what she'd just said. "I can't believe I just said that. That sounded awful."

"No, it didn't," said Stephanie matter-of-factly.

"But I don't usually I mean, I'm not"

"Let it go. Go back to the problem you started with. You're mad at Travis because?"

"He thinks he has exclusive rights to my social life!" declared Liz, her momentary embarrassment forgotten in favor of her original tirade. "Why shouldn't I ask Phlox out if I want to?"

"No reason. You said it yourself. Travis said he didn't want to see the film; you never claimed your relationship would be exclusive."

"Right!"

"Right."

"Huh." Liz looked at her friend. "Is that what you really think, or are you just saying what you think I want to hear?"

"Would it matter?"

Cutler considered for a moment before replying. "Yeah. A little."

"It's what I really think."

"Really?"

"Yes. Look. Did you two agree on the nature of your relationship from the start? I mean, did you both know going in that it was just fun without any long-term strings attached?"

"I thought so. We said from the start we'd just see where things went."

"And have your feelings changed?"

"No."

"Has he told you that his have changed?"

"No. At least No. He hasn't told me that."

"Okay."

There was a pause while Liz thought about it. "Are you saying his feelings _have_ changed? That he wants more now?"

"I'm not saying anything. The only person who could answer that is Travis. I'm just saying it's possible he sees things going in a different direction than you do. But if that's the case, it's up to him to say so. Of course, it may be that he's just a jealous prick."

"Stephanie!"

"What?"

"He's not a prick!"

"I didn't say he was."

"You did just now!"

"And now you're defending him."

"I—" Liz stammered. "But—" She growled. "Now I'm just confused."

"I have that effect on people sometimes," Stephanie said with mirthless irony. She looked at her friend kindly. "I'm sorry. I told you I was just saying what I thought. They're my opinions—that doesn't make them right. Not by a long shot."

Liz took a deep breath, sighed it out. "Okay."

"Feeling any better?"

"Not really."

"Sorry."

"I'm less angry—but I'm more confused."

"Can I make one more suggestion?"

"Is it going to make my brain explode?" Liz asked wearily.

Cormack smiled, chuckling. "I don't think so, but I can't make any promises."

"Okay. Shoot."

"You should never say that to a security officer."

"Funny. What's the suggestion?"

"Don't worry about it. Go to the movie with Phlox. Have a good time."

"That's it?"

"That's it. There's no point in beating yourself up over this when it's nothing you have control over. I think you should talk to Travis about it, but not today. You're pissed; he's probably still pissed. You both need to calm down before you deal with this apparent breakdown in communication."

Liz considered what her bunkmate said. "You're right. Thanks for letting me vent." She smiled gratefully.

"Any time. So, what's the flick tonight? Not another B sci-fi/horror movie, I hope."

"Thankfully, no," replied Cutler, standing. She went to her locker, pulled out a brush, and gave her hair a quick once-over. "It's 'For Whom the Bell Tolls'. It's a classic."

"I've heard of it, but I've never seen it."

"You should go tonight, then! You'll love it. But bring tissues—it's a tear-jerker."

"Hmm. Don't know that I'm up for a tear-jerker tonight. We'll see," she said noncommittally. Stephanie knew she wasn't going to go once she'd heard this news, but she found people were less inclined to insist on something if she played it undecided.

"Have you had dinner yet?" asked Liz. "I think I've calmed down enough I won't make myself sick if I try to eat."

Stephanie looked up at the chronometer above her bunk. "Can you what half an hour? I'm supposed to meet Mae at 1930. You could join us."

"Sure. Sounds good." She looked around the cabin, momentarily at a loss. "Do you mind if I turn on some music?"

"Nope," answered Cormack, picking up her book once more. "Go ahead."

Liz deliberated for a moment more before asking, "What was it you were listening to last night?"

"What?" Stephanie glanced up from her book distractedly.

"That kind of techno sounding group—with the Irish fiddles?"

"You mean The Hoolie-gans?"

"Is that their name? I want to listen to them. They sounded just angry enough for the mood I'm in."

Stephanie gave her bunkmate a wry, understanding smile. "You think so, eh?"

"Yeah." Liz nodded.

Cormack chuckled. "Yeah. I can understand that." She set her book down again, crawled to the end of her bunk and reached over to the computer. Stretched out, she could just manage to balance and reach the keyboard. She hit a number of keys, and raucous and somewhat violent Celtic music filled the room. She turned down the volume a little and sat back on her bunk.

"Yeah!" Liz said again, enthusiastically. "That's what I want. They sound pissed off and unapologetic."

"I know," answered Stephanie with a grin. "They're my favorite band." 

Stephanie turned back to her book, but Liz was getting into the music. She started to dance to the driving bass beat, gyrating more and more wildly with the frenetic rhythm of the fiddle. Stephanie began to nod her head to the beat, too. Slowly, it worked into her shoulders and down to her hips to where she couldn't sit still any longer. She tossed her book down and leapt to her feet. The two women danced unrestrainedly with the energy the music built in them until they both collapsed, laughing, onto their bunks.

"What did you say this band was called?" asked Liz as they caught their breath between songs.

"The Hoolie-gans."

"The Hoolie-gans. I think they're my new favorite band, too." She grinned.

*****

"Am I wrong? Doesn't that seem just a bit—I don't know—strange to you?"

"Does what seem strange, exactly?" asked Malcolm. "The fact that she asked someone else to the movie, or the fact that it was Dr. Phlox?" He took a bite of ravioli while he waited for the answer. He was nearly done eating, but Mayweather's constant diatribe had assured that the ensign's dinner would be cold before he got half way through it.

"Well," Travis said, "the first part, mostly. I mean, we're supposed to be dating. That's what _I_ thought was going on the last five weeks."

"Did you tell her you wanted to go?"

"Go where?"

"To the movie?"

Travis looked at him like he'd just grown antennae. "I don't want to go to the movie."

Malcolm stared at him across the table. He wasn't sure how he'd become Travis's "agony aunt," but he had and he figured it was the least he could do to try and help his friend out. However "I'm not entirely sure I see the problem," he admitted. "You told her you didn't want to go."

"Right."

"Did you offer an alternative?"

"Huh?"

"Something else you _did_ want to do tonight instead?"

"Well, no."

"Then why shouldn't she go to the movie with someone else?"

"You're not listening!" declared Travis, frustrated.

"I'm listening," insisted Malcolm. "Apparently I'm just not understanding you."

"She's my girlfriend, and she's going to a movie with another man!"

Realization struck Reed. "So you think it's a romantic liaison she's planned with Phlox?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Why can't it just be two friends? Did she say something to you that implied more than that?" He took a last bite of his dinner, washed it down with a swallow of water.

"Not directly. But—"

"But nothing. Relax. There's no point jumping to conclusions."

"I just feel like I should _do_ something about it!"

"What?" asked Malcolm practically. "Hit her with a club and carry her off like a Neanderthal?"

"Well, that's a little extreme, but—"

Reed shook his head. "Stop talking. Eat your dinner. There's nothing _sensible_ to be done about it right now. Do something _you_ want to do tonight," he suggested. "You can talk to Liz tomorrow if you're still upset." He watched the ensign closely, waiting for his reaction. _Was I_ ever _that young?_ he asked himself. Then had to admit, yes, he had been once. He shook his head again but at himself this time.

Travis reluctantly acquiesced. "Okay. I suppose you're right." He took a bite of his food, made a face.

"Cold, is it?" Reed teased lightly.

"Mm-hmm." Travis swallowed. "Next time I go off like this, remind me not to do it over dinner."

"I'll try to remember that," said Malcolm dryly.

*****

Cormack and Cutler sat and waited while Lawless finished getting ready. "Sorry to make you wait," Mae said as she emerged from the lav. "I got out of Engineering a little later than I thought I would." She fished a hairbrush out of her locker and quickly brushed her dark, shoulder-length hair. Stephanie chuckled at the replaying of the same ritual she'd witnessed Liz performing earlier. "What?" asked Lawless, tossing the brush back into the locker.

"Just had to laugh," answered Cormack. "I don't even _own_ a hairbrush."

"You curly-haired types can get away with that," put in Liz.

"Wait. How do you braid your hair every morning without brushing it?" Mae wanted to know.

"Years and years of practice. Come on." Stephanie stood. "Let's go. I'm starving."

They didn't know it, but it was a lucky chance Lawless had been running late. As a result, they just managed to miss bumping into Travis and Malcolm. The men left the mess hall less than five minutes before the women arrived.

The trio chatted and laughed over dinner, Liz's earlier temper at least momentarily forgotten. Suddenly, Cutler glanced at her watch. "Shoot! I've got to go," she exclaimed and quickly stood. "Sorry to eat and run."

"That's okay. Have fun at the movie," said Stephanie.

"Thanks." She paused, smiled at her friend, and said deliberately, "I will."

Lawless watched her hurry away. When the mess hall door closed behind her, Mae looked at Stephanie. "What was that about?"

"What about?"

"Oh, no. Don't start that elusive thing again."

"I'm not!" insisted Cormack. At Mae's doubtful and accusatory look she added, "She was in a bad mood earlier. I told her to just forget about it and have fun tonight."

"Oh."

Stephanie laughed. "Don't sound so disappointed."

Mae shrugged. "I'm not. What was she upset about?"

"Man trouble."

"Oh?" The engineer perked up the tiniest bit at that, her curiosity engaged. "Wait. And now they're going to the movie?"

"No. She's going with Dr. Phlox."

"Oh."

"What now?"

"Nothing." Lawless shrugged dismissively.

But Cormack wouldn't let it go. "No. What is it?"

"It's nothing," insisted Mae.

"You sure?" Stephanie gave her friend a concerned look.

"Sure." May smiled. "You want some dessert? I think I saw cream _pan_ up there.

Cormack sighed and leaned back in her chair. "That sounds so good, but I'm stuffed."

"Well, there's still time to catch the movie. You want to go?"

"No, thanks. Liz said it's a tear-jerker. I don't think I'm up for that tonight."

Mae looked briefly disappointed, but shook it off. "So, what are your plans the rest of the evening?"

"You looking for an invitation?" teased Stephanie, grinning.

"It's Saturday night, and I have nothing to do," her friend replied flatly.

"I'm afraid I was just planning to wash my hair and then kick back with my book. It's not an exciting plan, but you're welcome to join me."

"Hmm. Tempting." They traded provocative leers, then laughed. "But I think I'll pass. Actually" She sat up a little straighter. "I think I'm going to try to catch the movie." She stood. "See you later?"

"See you later," affirmed Stephanie with a smile.

*****

The "message waiting" light on the computer was flashing when Cormack returned from the shower room. She double-checked that it was actually for her before sitting down and playing the transmission. She was pleasantly surprised to find it was a video letter from her sister-in-law, Gemma. Cormack ran her fingers through her damp hair, working out the worst of the tangles as the message ran.

"Dear Stephanie," Gemma began in the Indian accent Cormack had always adored. She and Kathryn were both suckers for it, and she'd always been envious that her sister got to listen to it every day. "First of all, Kevin sends his love. I promised him I would tell you that before I put him to bed. Three years old and he has me wrapped around his little finger. I can only imagine it will get worse." Gemma gave a gentle laugh. "That said, on to _my_ reason for this letter. I know Ryn's been sending you articles about your beloved Orcas, but I'm willing to bet it's just not enough for you. I know you too well, little sister," the image said with a smile. Stephanie chuckled at the old endearment. "So, I've devised a treat for you. Sometimes it pays to work for Canada's largest television network—and to have an editor who owes one a favor. Bear in mind that as I send this there are still two weeks to go before the playoffs, so it's not complete. But I think you'll enjoy it nonetheless. I hope I was right when I picked the music. Namaste, little sister. Come home safe to us all. Yours, Gemma."

The image of her sister-in-law faded and was replaced by the prompt "Play attachment?" With a tingle of excitement, Stephanie ran the file.

Thirty minutes later, she was still sitting at the desk. She wasn't entirely sure she'd even blinked in all that time. Cormack had run the thirteen-minute recording of the Orcas' season highlights twice. The music choices Gemma had made were perfect. And whoever the editor was who'd owed Gemma the favor—well, now Stephanie felt she was in their debt. Gemma had supplied the editor with music from The Hoolie-gans, Cordelia's Sisters, and Hobbiton Army, and that person had mixed them brilliantly to back the images of home runs, diving saves, clutch hits, and stolen bases that marked the Orcas' incredible season. She'd have declared it the best birthday present in history if her birthday wasn't seven months away.

"I have the best sister-in-law ever," Stephanie declared aloud to the room. She played the highlight reel one more time.

Glancing at the chronometer, she realized she really ought to get to bed. She stood, tossed her laundry down the chute, and went into the lav to brush her teeth. By the time she came out, Liz had returned.

"Hey!" said Cormack. "How was the movie?"

"Brilliant as ever," replied Cutler with a smile.

"And Dr. Phlox?"

Liz's smile grew coy. "Fine."

"Oh, spill it!" demanded her bunkmate. She sat crossed-legged on her bunk. "I know that look, and I want _all_ the juicy details."

"There's nothing that juicy."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing!"

"You are by my definition. Now give!"

There was the briefest of hesitations while Liz considered. "I kissed him," she said quickly.

"You did?" asked Stephanie with glee.

"Just on the cheek!"

"And?"

"And nothing." Cutler sat opposite her friend, pulled off her boots.

"What'd he do?"

"Mostly just looked surprised."

"Good surprised or bad surprised?"

"GoodI think."

"Great!"

"But" Liz's face turned suddenly pensive. "I still need to talk to Travis."

"Ah. Right."

"You wouldn't have any more helpful advice on that front would you?" she asked hopefully.

"When have I ever provided 'helpful' advice?" replied Stephanie, only half-joking.

"You know what I mean."

"All right. I'll tell you what I think. Just remember what I told you before: this is just my opinion, and that doesn't make it right."

"I know, I know. Now what is it?"

"Be honest. Be straightforward. Don't beat around the bush. Tell him straight out what you think, then let him do the same. You'll know soon enough if you're on the same page."

"And if we're not?"

"Then you have to either find a way to get there, or move on."

Liz let out a tired sigh. "Easier said than done."

"It always is. Unless of course, you're trying to speak Klingon. Have you ever tried wrapping your mouth around that freaky language of theirs? I swear, it's enough to make you choke on your own tongue." Stephanie's random and unexpected comment had the desired effect. Liz laughed.

"You're nuts."

"Thank you," said Cormack with a smile. "We aim to please."

*****

_The weight of his lover's head on his chest was warm and comfortable. He sighed contentedly, felt his partner's arm settle more securely around him. He smiled and ran gentle fingers through tousled brown hair. His partner pressed a kiss into his chest in response._

"Go back to sleep," whispered Trip.

"Mmm," sighed Malcolm. "Still awake?" He raised his head just enough to look up at the engineer.

"Couldn't sleep."

Reed sat up further and gave his lover a concerned look. "You feel all right?" he asked.

"Terrific." Tucker shifted to lean on one elbow so they were lying side by side, looking at each other.

Malcolm regarded him through sleepy blue eyes. "You're so handsome," he said, placing a palm on Trip's rough, stubbled cheek.

The engineer gave a self-deprecating smile and a small shake of his head. "Nah," he said softly. "That's just the sleep in your eyes."

"You're wrong," replied Malcolm equally quietly but leaving no room for argument. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against his lover's lips.

Trip woke slowly to the chirping of his alarm. His dream was lost to the moment between sleeping and waking, but there was a smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "Computer, alarm off," he said. He had the vague idea his good mood this morning was something to do with his dream, but couldn't recall what he'd been dreaming about. Still, not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he accepted the cheerful feeling. In fact, it was a nice change.

He knew he'd been a bit moody lately. If it kept up much longer, his crew were going to start noticing it, too. He knew what would shake him out of his funk, but it was something he didn't really have control over. He needed to talk to Malcolm. Unfortunately, the armory officer had done a fair job of avoiding any chance for them to be alone together, even on duty. Tucker would never bring the matter up while they were working—Reed must have known that. Still, he seemed to have learned a lesson in evasion from the wily Ensign Cormack.

_Maybe if I trapped us in a turbolift like he did to her No._ He shook his head, discarded the thought. _Bad idea._

The movie the other night had helped Tucker come to terms with some of his own issues. He'd always been a sucker for Ingrid Bergman, and the classic film had given him a sense of closure, allowed him to say an internal good-bye to Natalie. The discovery of the drifting alien ship yesterday had also been a good distraction, at least for a while. Now that they were in orbit over Valakis, though, there was little for an engineer to do. This mission was strictly one for the medical teams.

Trip considered his options as he grabbed a quick shower. When it came down to it, there wasn't a lot he could do. He'd managed to catch Malcolm off duty two or three times; each time his attempt to talk had been firmly shut down. Until Malcolm was ready to hear him out, he would just have to wait. He couldn't let it get to him. Refusing to lose the good mood he'd woken with, he put all thoughts of Reed, personal relationships, and explanations aside. He dressed quickly and headed to the mess hall for some breakfast.

He was enjoying his juice and pancakes when someone said, "May I join you, Commander?"

He looked up at Lieutenant Reed, surprised. "Sure," he said quickly. "Have a seat."

"Thanks." Malcolm sat, setting his plate of scrambled eggs and his mug of tea on the table. "How are the repairs to the port nacelle going?" he asked offhandedly.

"Good," replied Trip. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he was happy for any communication with the lieutenant at this point. "Everything's fixed up. We've just got some fine tuning to do. I figure most of today'll be running diagnostics and finding every last little thing that might need tweaking back into place."

"Glad to hear it."

There was a pause during which the two men ate their breakfasts. After several minutes, Trip couldn't stand the silence any more and asked, "How are things in the Armory? I know you got all three phase cannons on-line finally. Everythingokaywith them?"

"Fine, thanks. Of course, we won't know absolutely until we've had a chance to test them physically. But the diagnostics and the simulations all look good."

"Good Good." Trip returned his attention to his meal. There was more he wanted to say, but it wasn't entirely up to him. All he could do was be patient and respect the Tactical Officer's wishes.

"I was wondering," Reed began, "if you're free this evening. There are somematters I'd like to discuss, if you have the time."

Tucker was immediately on the alert. "Sure. What time?"

"Are you free at 2130 hours?"

"Yeah." He assumed he was. If there was anything on his schedule, he'd change it. "Where?"

"Why not here?" suggested Reed with false casualness. No one observing them would have had any idea of the actual subject of their exchange.

"Sounds good to me." Tucker restrained himself from any further comment. He'd been presented with a time and a place to talk. He could wait a few more hours.

*****

It was late when the landing party returned to the ship. Archer and T'Pol both headed to the bridge. Hoshi and Liz were in sickbay helping Dr. Phlox unload all the samples they'd collected from the Menk.

"I think that's all of them," said Cutler wearily. She'd had an exciting and tiring day, which had left her with much to think about. "I'm going to turn in unless you need anything more?" She looked at the Denobulan questioningly.

"That's fine, thank you," he replied. "I appreciate the help you've both given me today. Good night."

"Good night, Doctor," Hoshi said.

"Good night," echoed Liz.

The two women strolled out of sickbay and headed for the crew quarters. "I think I'm going to stop at the mess hall for a late-night snack," Cutler decided suddenly. She wasn't quite ready to sleep and hoped a mug of hot chocolate might relax her a little. "You want to come?"

"No, thanks," Sato replied. "I'm beat. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Good night."

Liz made her way to the mess hall, lost in thought. Things Phlox had said while they were on Valakis were gnawing at her. His casual acceptance of the relationship between the Valakians and the Menk disturbed hereven more than did his revelation about his three wives. He'd asked her then if she was ready for a relationship with someone so culturally different from herself. It was a fair question. In some ways she felt she'd evaded it. In others, she believed her answer was perfectly fair. "Let's just see where it goes," she'd told him.

The mess hall was mostly deserted at that hour. She noticed Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker at a table in the far corner, talking quietly. She collected an empty mug and placed it under the drinks dispenser. "Hot chocolate." As she waited for the mug to fill, the mess hall door opened.

Liz glanced up. "Travis," she said.

"Hey," he replied. "I heard you were back."

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago."

"How was it?"

"Great! Fascinating. Educational. It felt good to get some fresh air," she finished lamely.

"Good," he said, nodding.

They stood there looking at one another, both awkward and uncomfortable, neither sure how to continue. Finally, Travis pointed to the drinks dispenser. "You going to drink that?"

"Huh? Oh. Right." Liz picked up the mug, took a sip. She sighed happily at the rich chocolatey taste.

"So," Travis began again. "How was itworking with Dr. Phlox?"

Liz regarded him through eyes turned suddenly wary. "Fine," she answered. "He's very skilled."

"What does _that_ mean?" the generally good-natured helmsman asked bitterly.

"Nothing, Travis. Look. Before we both get upset again, maybe we should try talking about this rationally."

Mayweather took a deep breath and let it out resignedly. "Okay. Let's talk." They chose a nearby table and sat down.

Across the room, another discussion was taking place.

"I'm not sure what else you want me to say," Trip said.

"I'm not entirely certain, myself," admitted Malcolm. "There's a part of me that's saying it isn't important. Your past relationships are your business. I think what's bothering me is that this Natalie wasn't a _past_ relationship when I asked you out and you said yes."

Trip looked down at his drink, trying to decide how to respond. He hadn't thought of anything before now to explain his actions; he didn't know what made him think he would have some sort of flash of inspiration at this point.

"My question is—" continued Reed, "—and I know you're under no obligation to answer this—but, I wonder how seriously could you have taken that relationship to respond as you did to me?" Malcolm looked at the engineer, caught his eyes, forced him to face him. "If that was how you treated her" He didn't continue—didn't want to continue.

Tucker thought carefully before answering. "I thought I loved Natalie," he said finally. "I still think I might have. But I also think there's a part of me that knew it was over, even before I got that letter from her. When I was posted to _Enterprise_, she said she was happy for me. Maybe she really was. But there was something about the way she acted I don't know." He took a swallow of his drink, considering. "I was so excited, I couldn't see it then. And maybe I'm just imagining it now. Trying to convince myself that there were signs I missed so I can explain what I did. I don't know," he said again.

Malcolm regarded him across the table, sipped thoughtfully at his mug of tea. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

It wasn't what Trip expected him to say. "Huh?" he said and immediately regretted his lack of eloquence.

"I'm asking as your friend now, not just as someone with an interest infuture developments." Malcolm gave him a wry but sympathetic smile, which the engineer returned with a shyness that made Reed's heart practically melt. He fought the urge to reach out physically to him, to comfort him in some way. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Trip said finally. "It was tough. But it's getting easier." He hesitated, uncertain if he was once again making a big mistake. _For crying out loud, Trip,_ he thought. _If not now, when?_ With this thought to buoy him, he asked, "Do you thinkwe could try again? Sort ofstart over?"

Malcolm considered very carefully before answering. "What do you propose we start?" he asked.

"Let me put it this way." The engineer held out a hand across the table. Uncertain, but willing to play along, Malcolm took it. "Hi. I'm Trip. I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime."

A small smile curled the corner of Reed's mouth. "Pleased to meet you, Trip. I'd like that."

*****

End Log 14  
_(Completed 29 Jan 02)_

Continued in Log 15


	15. Log 15

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 15**  
(This takes place immediately preceding, during, and immediately following the events of _Sleeping Dogs_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

They only spent a few days orbiting Valakis. Everyone assumed Phlox hadn't been able to help them, and so _Enterprise_ was moving on. _Still, _thought Cormack, _he's a doctor, not a miracle worker._ She knew from Liz that he'd found a medication to help ease the Valakians' symptoms. _Really, what more could he have done?_

It was another quiet morning on _Enterprise_. They'd dropped out of warp unexpectedly a couple of hours ago. Unfortunately, it was nothing that was going to make her day any more interesting. She was dead curious about the shipwrecked vessel in the gas giant's atmosphere, but knew she wasn't about to see anything of it first hand.

She'd hoped they might find somewhere to test the phase-cannons today. She knew Lieutenant Reed was planning to ask the Captain about it. Maybe they'd get lucky and find an asteroid field near by to play in. For now, though, time was dragging and Cormack was bored. Routine maintenance was necessary, but that didn't make it interesting. It was her turn to do inventory and maintenance on the ships' stores of hand weapons; she and her team had been at it all morning.

Stephanie was glad for the distraction of lunch when it rolled around. She picked up a spinach salad and a glass of lemonade and found a spot to sit near the mess hall door. She really preferred the tables by the windows, but so did everyone else. You had to come earlier than she had in order to get one.

She spotted Lieutenant Reed and waved him over. "Lieutenant," she said. "Care to join me?"

"Thanks," he replied, sitting. 

He seemed tired to Cormack. "You look kind of beat. Were you working late last night?"

"Not particularly. I am a bit tired today, though. I don't think I slept very well." Listlessly, he took a bite of his soup and put the spoon back down again.

"Not hungry?" she asked.

"Not really, no. I'm not feeling too well to be honest. It's probably nothing."

"Maybe you should see Dr. Phlox," she suggested, washing down a bite of salad with her lemonade.

"I don't want to bother him. He's been working hard the last several of days."

"But he's done with that now. I bet he'd be glad for something routine."

"Maybe."

"If you're sick, you should go see him," Stephanie said practically. "This ship's a closed system, after all. If you've caught some sort of bug, there's a damn good chance everyone else will too, and then where will we be?"

"I really don't think it's anything like that," Malcolm insisted. "After all, where could I have picked it up? It's probably just some allergy acting up. I've certainly got enough of them… Although where I'd have encountered tropical grasses lately is beyond me," he added ironically. He sneezed suddenly.

"Gezundheit," said Cormack and handed him a napkin. "I don't have any tissue," she added with a shrug.

"Thanks."

She regarded him closely. "You really don't look so great," she said at last.

"Thanks so much," the lieutenant replied acerbically.

"And you're unusually grumpy. Huh. I'm kind of glad now I've been out of the Armory all morning."

He looked at her, a scathing retort on the tip of his tongue. But before he could get it out, he sneezed again. He blew his nose and then heaved an exasperated sigh. "A cold. Wouldn't that be just perfect? I'm supposed to be going on away mission shortly."

"That shipwreck we found?" Cormack asked. He nodded. "You sure you're going to be okay for that? I mean…" She let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished. When Reed didn't respond with anything more than another caustic look, she tried another tactic. "You remember when you ordered me to sickbay after that…incident in the jefferies tube?" Reed nodded again, sniffing. "And remember how I didn't want to go, but it turned out you were right—I _was_ injured?"

"I get your point, Ensign. There's no need to continue. I'll see him now. If you'll excuse me?" He stood.

"Of course," she said. "Go. Feel better."

*****

The injection Phlox had given him was working wonders. Reed was still feeling sub-par, but at least now he could breathe. Not well, but at this point he was happy with at all. He was headed for the launch bay to get suited up for the away mission when Cormack caught up with him. She was carrying a silver case slung over her shoulder, and he had a good guess as to what it contained.

"Lieutenant," she said as they walked along the corridor toward the launch bay. "How are you?"

"Better, thanks," he replied.

"Good. I just wanted to let you know the weapons inventory is done. And I have the phase pistols you requested for the mission." She indicated the case she carried.

"Thank you." He stopped. "I'll take them from here."

Reluctantly, Stephanie stopped walking and handed over the case. "Are you sure you're up to this mission?" she asked finally. "I know I'm out of line, but you don't know what you'll be walking into over there."

Malcolm looked at her kindly. "I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. I don't expect to be down there long. That ship, whoever it belongs to, is sinking. We're not going to be able spend much time on it before we'll be forced to leave or be crushed by the atmospheric pressure."

"Oh, well, that's reassuring," Cormack replied dryly.

Reed gave her one of his patented half-smiles. "See you in an hour or two."

Cormack nodded, dissatisfied but knowing there was nothing more to be done. "See you."

*****

Trip wasn't overly concerned, although it had made him a bit nervous when they'd discovered the shipwreck was a Klingon vessel. The comm connection with the boarding party was iffy, but it was hanging in there. As long as they had some sort of contact with them, he felt okay. Then the comms went completely off-line.

"Can you get them back?" asked Archer.

"I can try." Tucker hurried to the communications station and tried to reconnect. He thought he could hear T'Pol say something more, but it was lost in noise. "Damn static!" he cursed, unknowingly echoing Reed's comment down on the Klingon ship. "I think they may have dropped out of comm range," he added more helpfully, examining the panels.

"Take us in closer, Travis," the captain said to the helmsman.

"Aye, sir," Mayweather replied.

Archer looked back to Trip. "Let me know when we're within range."

There were several moments of silence as Tucker continued working on the comms. Finally, he leaned on the console saying, "Try it now."

"Archer to T'Pol," the captain began, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. "What's your status?" When there was no response, he gave the engineer another inquiring glance.

Tucker returned it with a small half shrug and a concerned look. "They're back in comm range," was all he could offer. He'd done all he could with the equipment at their end.

Then the unexpected occurred. The shuttlepod appeared on the screen…heading into deep space. When it didn't respond to hails, Trip tried locking onto the pod's comm frequency. "I'm picking up something," he said, punching up the connection. An unfamiliar female voice came through the speakers.

"That sounds like Klingon," Archer commented, approaching the comm station.

Trip looked at the console uncertainly. He was brushing up on all sorts of rusty skills today. "I'll try and tie in the UT." He let muscle memory guide him as he hit a number of switches. The UT kicked in and he felt a brief moment of satisfaction, which was rapidly replaced with anxiety when they discovered what the woman was saying.

"We've been attacked by an unknown ship—designation _Enterprise NX-01_. Any warships in range, respond."

"Set a pursuit course," said the captain as he returned to his chair.

"Aye, sir," replied Mayweather, laying in the course.

Archer looked over at Trip. "Bring the grappler on-line."

Trip gave a quick nod and headed back to the tactical station. As he crossed the bridge once again, the random thought ran through his mind that they really should have ordered the Beta-shift bridge crew to report. Somehow that little detail had been missed. He put the thought aside and brought the grappler on-line. "Target acquired."

"Reel her in, Commander."

Tucker fired the grappler and was gratified when both lines made contact. "We've got it."

Archer hit the comm on his chair. "Bridge to Security. Send a team to Launch Bay One. Trip," he nodded to the engineer to follow him as he headed for the lift. "The bridge is yours, Travis." The two officers stepped into the lift and the door shut behind them.

*****

"Captain, you're breaking up," Hoshi said urgently. Any reply was lost in static. "Captain?" she tried one last time with no success. "So much for the cavalry." She closed the communicator and put it away.

The captain had tried to bring the ship down to them, but _Enterprise_ had been unable to withstand the atmospheric pressure at this depth. Sato wondered just how much longer the Klingon vessel was going to hold up as the ship creaked under the increasing strain on its structural integrity.

"We should continue working to bring the engines back on-line," said T'Pol. 

"Right," agreed Reed. "The question is, where do we start? We know the pressure failed in the fusion manifold. Anyone care to take a guess as to where we might find it?"

There was silence punctuated only by the continued creaking of the ship's hull. It was Sato who spoke first. "Maybe we can find a log entry."

"To what end?" asked T'Pol, beating Reed to the question by a split second.

"There might be a record of the repairs they were doing when the neurotoxin hit them."

"You assume they were doing repairs."

"If we don't start somewhere…" Sato offered.

"I suppose it is as logical a place to begin as anywhere," T'Pol said.

Reed wiped a sleeve across his forehead. "Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?" he asked.

T'Pol pulled out a scanner and checked the environment. "The temperature has increased by eleven degrees since our arrival," she confirmed. 

"Good." At her inquisitive look, he added, "That means it's not just me. I'm getting out of this EV suit." He began to remove the heavy outer layer. "It'll be easier to work without it, too."

"Agreed." She and Hoshi followed his lead, stripping down to the gray EV undersuits.

They collected the shed gear and put it with the helmets and other paraphernalia they'd removed earlier.

"I'll see what I can do at the helm station while you two look for anything that'll tell us where else to look," said Reed. 

It didn't take him long to determine there was nothing he could do. The alien technology was just too different. While he had a strong working knowledge of _Enterprise_'s engines and guidance systems, he was lost in the Klingon systems.

*****

The confrontation in the launch bay didn't last long, and when it was over they had one very pissed off Klingon in sickbay. Trip knew he didn't have the cleanest vocabulary, but the Klingon woman was putting him to shame with her ingenious and lengthy epithets. On one level, he had to admire her creativity. On another level, he was almost sorry he'd managed to get the Universal Translator working; his ears were beginning to feel as if they needed cleaning. 

They'd finally gotten the woman to shut up long enough to learn a few facts. Her name was Bu'kaH, the ship was called _Somraw_, and they'd made an enemy of the Klingon Empire…again. Trip shook his head at the alien woman's stubborn attitude. He had to fight back a laugh when Archer, finally giving up trying to reason with Bu'kaH, muttered, "Remind me to stop trying to help people," as he passed him on his way out of sickbay.

Tucker was about to follow when Dr. Phlox stopped him.

"One moment, Commander," the Denobulan said.

"What is it, Doc?"

"Have you been able to re-establish contact with the boarding party?"

Trip's face darkened in frustration for just a brief moment as he thought about the recent failed attempt to retrieve the team. "Not yet," he admitted unhappily. "We had them for a little while when we tried to take _Enterprise_ in to get them. But the hull pressure was too high, and we had to ascend out of comm range again." He wished he knew just what that Klingon ship was made of that it was holding up under the pressure the gas giant was putting on it. Even with their hull plating at maximum, _Enterprise_ had been forced to abort their rescue attempt—the stress on the hull was just too great. 

Trip's feeling of urgency reasserted itself. Without more information, they had no definite way to determine how long the alien vessel would last. They had to find a way to get the team out of that gas giant—and _fast_. He wondered how quickly he could escape the conversation with habitually chatty doctor.

Unaware of Tucker's inner dilemma, Phlox was still talking. "Can you please notify me when you do? I'd like a chance to check on Lieutenant Reed's condition."

"His condition?" Trip looked at the doctor quizzically.

"He's suffering from a cold. Just the normal human variety, fortunately, but I can only estimate how long the injection I gave him will last."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me he went down there when he's sick?" 

"I tried to dissuade him, but he was adamant that the captain needed him on this mission."

"Great," the engineer said sarcastically. Trip didn't know who he was more annoyed with—Malcolm for being stubborn enough go or the doctor for letting him do so. It didn't matter that he'd have done the same thing had he been in Reed's position. That wasn't the point, in his opinion. He buried his annoyance as best he could. Getting angry with Phlox wasn't going to do anybody any good, and he had more pressing matters to deal with. "I'll let you know when we get ahold of them," he promised.

"Thank you, Commander."

*****

Cormack was on the bridge when the Archer and Tucker returned from sickbay. Mayweather delivered the status report, for what it was worth. "I think they've sunk another 900 meters," the helmsman said. "But I'm having a hard time keeping any kind of lock on them. Much farther and the interference is going to make our sensors completely useless."

"What have you found out about that ship?" the captain wanted to know.

"Not a whole lot." Mayweather transferred the research he'd been doing to the conference area behind the main bridge. 

Archer looked over at Cormack at the tactical station. "Ensign," he said. "Take the helm."

"Aye, sir." She relieved Mayweather at the helm.

"Travis, take us through what you've learned."

"Yes, sir."

The three men gathered at the back of the room and Mayweather gave them what little information he'd managed to get about the Klingon vessel from the Vulcan database. In his opinion, although he didn't voice it, their odds of rescuing the boarding party were particularly grim. But then Commander Tucker spoke up.

"What if we use duratanium braces to reinforce a shuttlepod? It won't look pretty, but it might hold up long enough for us to get our people out."

"Our only other option is for T'Pol and Malcolm to fix a broken-down Klingon ship and fly it out themselves," put in Travis.

Archer considered his options. It didn't take long. "I don't think we're going to get any help from our guest in sickbay," he said. Mayweather and Tucker exchanged a glance of agreement. The captain looked at Trip. "Get started on those braces." Trip nodded and turned to go. To Travis, Archer said, "Keep an eye out for any Klingon ships coming this way."

"Aye, sir."

Mayweather was just reclaiming the helm from Cormack as the lift doors shut behind the Chief Engineer. Finding himself alone for the first time all afternoon, Trip took a moment to really think about what was happening. He'd been burying his emotions ever since the Klingon woman had stolen the shuttlepod, stranding the boarding party on her ship. He was concerned about the whole team, of course, but it was worry over Malcolm that was driving him. He only hoped his solution would work. _Wouldn't that be just my luck,_ he thought bitterly. _Does it count as a failed relationship if the other person dies before you even get the chance to kiss?_ Abruptly, he shook his head in self-disgust. _Damn it, Trip!_ he snapped at himself. _Get off the self-pity kick and keep your mind on the job at hand. Getting all maudlin and self-indulgent isn't going to help anyone._

He emerged on D-deck and hurried to Main Engineering. The first person he spotted was Ensign Lawless. "Mae," he called out as he gathered up the tools he'd need.

She looked up from where she was working, took in his stony expression with some trepidation. "Sir?"

"I need your help. Get a couple of the guys and collect some duratanium beams from stores and bring them to Launch Bay One."

"How many?" she asked hurrying to keep up with him as he grabbed a variety of tools and a pair of welding helmets.

"As many as the three of you can carry. And make it fast!" he added as he rushed out again.

"Yes, sir!" she called after his retreating form. She gave a quick glance around. "Billy, Eddie." The two men glanced over to her. "Come with me."

*****

"The one time we need the chief engineer," Reed said tiredly, "is the one time we leave him behind." 

"Take a look at this," said Hoshi suddenly. She was standing by a console near what they figured must be the captain's station. Reed and T'Pol joined her and she played back the recording. It was the Klingon captain's last log entry.

"Sounds like we need to find the port fusion injector," said Reed when the recording ended. He glanced at the women hoping one of them had a clue to its location.

Sato spoke up. "Wait, I think I saw that somewhere." She moved to another panel and called up a schematic of the ship. "Here. One deck below us. It's in the…reactor pit."

"Reactor pit? Could that be Engineering?"

"Could be," the ensign confirmed.

"Then let's go."

They gathered their equipment and moved cautiously through the ship. Malcolm was ready this time should they encounter another Klingon as lively as the one who'd jumped him and stolen their shuttlepod. Fortunately, everyone they came across was as unconscious as the bridge crew. They found the reactor pit and located the port fusion injector control. T'Pol and Reed had to remove an unconscious Klingon from the console before setting up shop and getting to work.

Malcolm was doing the best he could in the adverse conditions. The temperature was continuing to rise and he could feel the effects of the injection he received before leaving _Enterprise_ beginning to wear off. Still, there was nothing for it but to keep going. Scanner in one hand and spanner in the other, he crouched next to the console and made another adjustment to the alien system. Suddenly, he lost his grip on the spanner. He let it fall and set down the scanner as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He steadied himself against the panel, then stood uncertainly, taking as deep a breath as he could manage. Feeling light-headed, he staggered a step or two before catching his balance against a metal conduit. He immediately regretted it and cried out as the surface of the tube burned his outstretched palm.

Sato hurried over. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the searing pain. "I seem to be getting a little light-headed. Yeahhh!" he grunted as his hand suddenly throbbed more vehemently. "Must be the heat." He fought the urge to lean back and use the column for support. That was what had caused him to be injured in the first place.

T'Pol examined him quickly with her Vulcan scanner. "You're dehydrated," she pronounced. "You need some water."

"I saw a galley on the schematics," offered Hoshi. "Deck four, blue sector. I'll see what I can find." Traipsing alone through an alien ship full of potentially deadly Klingons wasn't on the top of her to-do list, but she steeled herself for it. The lieutenant needed water; she could handle it. Nevertheless, she was relieved when T'Pol spoke up.

"You shouldn't go alone." The Vulcan moved to join her

"Watch yourselves," said Reed as they moved off. He shook his injured hand, willing the pain to go away. It didn't really help, but he tried to pretend it did. Otherwise, he couldn't get on with his work.

He sat next to the console he'd been working on and took a brief moment to just be still. He really was having a rotten day. He wished, not for the first time, that Trip was with them on this mission. Not that he wanted the engineer stranded on a sinking ship. It was just that he would have given almost anything at that moment to have Tucker there. _For his technical expertise, of course,_ he told himself. It wasn't the whole truth, but if he let his mind wander too far, he'd never get the injector fixed. Still, he couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to just relax into Trip's strong arms for even a brief moment.

"No," he said aloud. "You don't have time for this. Get back to work."

*****

Trip was beyond frustrated and well on his way to pissed off. He was stuck here on _Enterprise_ instead of over on the Klingon vessel. If the engines were damaged, he was the logical choice to be over there working on them. In all fairness, they hadn't known when the away team left that the engines were damaged. _Hell, we didn't even know the ship was Klingon._ He found neither thought helpful. It was bad enough that for no reason he could understand, Archer had decided to send T'Pol on the mission instead of him, but it also meant Malcolm was over there without him.

He wished he could have gone in the Tactical Officer's place, would have insisted if he'd known at the time what he knew now. Ordinarily he wouldn't have been quite so anxious. He believed Reed could handle whatever the Klingons might throw at him under normal conditions—and if Bu'kaH was any indication, they had a lot to throw—but Malcolm was sick. Drawing on his own limited experience with Klingons and what he'd heard of Archer's visit to the Klingon homeworld, Trip was willing to bet the environmental conditions on their ship were only going to make him feel worse.

Now he was doing the only thing he could: work on a way to get Malcolm and the others back. The duratanium reinforcing for the shuttlepod wasn't a perfect solution, but it was the best he could come up with. Time was growing short and the Klingon ship was only going to sink deeper. He wished he could just talk to them, make sure everyone was okay. _The only way to do that is to get this shuttlepod geared up to go,_ he reminded himself, refocusing on the task at hand.

Archer had left a short time ago to start some much-needed research on the Klingons. Tucker hoped he'd be more successful on that front than he'd been with Bu'kaH. Her arrogance had astonished him. _Still,_ he thought, _there must be something to her threats. The Klingon Empire couldn't have lasted as long as they have with out the firepower to back them up._ It wasn't a comforting thought, and he redoubled his efforts on the reinforcing beams.

A few minutes later it was done. Tests were showing the shuttlepod's hull would withstand the pressure within the gas giant up to 10 kilometers below _Somraw_'s last known position. If they were continuing to sink at the same rate, they should still be well within the new tolerances. He wanted to run one more structural integrity test before launching the pod, but first he needed to talk to the Captain. He'd tried once already to convince Archer to let him take the pod down to collect the team. So far, he'd had no luck. He planned his newest attack as he made his way to the captain's ready room. Not yet ready to admit his deepest motive for wanting to get down there himself, he hoped he could make the same arguments sound more convincing this time.

He reached the door and rang the chime.

"Come in," Archer called from inside.

Trip entered and waited for the door to close behind him before he spoke. "The shuttlepod's just about ready to go," he began.

"Good," said Archer, glancing up from his computer.

The engineer decided to dive right in. "Are you sure you don't want me to pilot it? I know you said you were going to do it but—"

"Trip," said Archer in a tone Tucker recognized too well. "We've already discussed this."

"I know, " he agreed. Still, he had to give it one last try. "But it's bad enough we've got three bridge officers down there. I just don't think it's a good idea to put _Enterprise_'s Captain at risk, too."

"You think she'll be better off risking her Chief Engineer?"

"I have a better chance of being able to get their engines going again. We might be able to fly that ship out of there under her own power."

"That's no longer an option. They've sunk too far. We're running out of time." He turned back to his computer, ending the argument once and for all.

Tucker didn't like it, but he nodded. He just wasn't prepared to tell the Captain the whole truth. He tried to justify his cowardice in the matter to himself by deciding that telling Archer wouldn't have done any good anyway. "Okay." Shaking off his frustration, he pasted on his normal pleasant smile and handed over the datapad he carried. "I'd like to run one more structural diagnostic before you launch."

Archer's response took the engineer completely off guard. "_Q'apla._"

"Beg your pardon?" he asked with a slightly baffled look.

"'Success'," replied the captain. "I decided to take your advice about thinking like a Klingon. The Vulcan database has about 900 pages on them."

Trip leaned in across the desk to get a better look at the computer screen. "Learn anything?"

"Plenty. They're driven by a warrior mentality. They tend to view anyone they meet as a potential enemy."

"That may explain why our guest is so irritable."

"They also have a strong sense of duty. Uh…" Archer quickly scanned down the screen until he found what he was looking for. "_Heh CHo' mruak tah._ 'Death before dishonor.'" He stopped suddenly as an idea struck to him. He quickly handed the datapad back to Trip and stood. "Finish up that diagnostic. I'll be in sickbay."

"Going to put your homework to use?" asked Tucker.

"Something like that," replied Archer as he stepped out the door. Tucker followed him out and across the bridge to the lift. A quick descent later they parted ways on E-deck, Archer heading for sickbay and Trip for the launch bay.

*****

Whatever the captain had said to Bu'kaH, it seemed to have worked. Trip sat in the captain's chair and watched the newly reinforced shuttlepod descend into the gas giant.

"Sir," said Cormack from Tactical. "I'm reading fluctuations in the planet's atmosphere."

"What kind of fluctuations?" Tucker demanded. They were too close to lose the away team now. Add the captain into the equation, and he silently cursed himself for not fighting harder to take the pod in himself. _Maybe if I'd told him…_ he thought, but pushed the thought away. There'd be time for self-recrimination later.

"The shockwave patterns look like they were caused by weapons discharges," Stephanie replied, puzzled. "Some sort of torpedo, I'd guess."

"Weapons?" Trip was immediately on his feet and at her side. "That's got to be Malcolm."

"Yes, sir," the ensign agreed. A thought struck her and she looked up at the engineer. "Maybe they're trying to use the shockwaves to push them into a higher orbit?"

"Maybe. They'll be lucky if they don't blow themselves to bits in the process, though." He moved quickly over to the comm station. "Damn! I can't raise the shuttlepod. Those explosions are just making the interference worse. Travis, do you still have a fix on their coordinates?"

"Yes, sir," the helmsman answered. "They're still descending."

"I'm reading another explosion!" said Cormack. "A lot bigger this time, and a lot closer."

"I'm picking up something on the sensors," added Mayweather. "Coming up fast near the shuttlepod."

Trip hurried back to stand behind the young man. "Can you identify it?"

There was the barest of pauses as Mayweather scanned the anomaly. "There's a lot of debris. I'm not sure… Hang on… It's the Klingon ship!" He continued to study the scanners closely. "It looks like the pod is docking with it," he said finally.

Trip sat once more, allowing himself a split second to relax the tiniest bit. His tension returned ten-fold at the helmsman's next announcement.

"Sir, there are two ships approaching at high warp. I think they're Klingon."

"How long 'til they get here?"

"Sixteen minutes." The comm beeped then. "We're being hailed. It's the Captain!" announced Travis, relief clear in his voice.

Trip practically bounded from his seat to stand behind him once again. "On screen," he ordered. The image that appeared was enough to make his heart leap. There were Jon, T'Pol, Hoshi, and Malcolm all standing around the seated Klingon woman on the bridge of the scout ship. The original away team was looking worse for wear, but appeared to all be in one piece. 

"This is Klingon Raptor _Somraw_, hailing _Enterprise,_" said Archer formally. "Request permission to disembark four passengers."

Tucker let out a relieved sigh as he exchanged glances with Mayweather. The engineer couldn't help but chuckle a little as he said, "Well, I don't see why not." The connection terminated, and he returned to his seat. "Ensign Cormack," he said looking over to her at Tactical. "You can return to your post. I think we've got everything under control for the moment. We should be well on our way before those other Klingon ships get here."

"Yes, sir," she said, rising. "Permission to stop by the landing bay on my way?"

He looked at her uncertainly. She simply raised an eyebrow. It suddenly occurred to him what she meant by her request. He'd known Stephanie and Malcolm were friends; he hadn't realized until then that she was aware of his own personal connection to the Armory Officer. "Granted," he said with the smallest nod of thanks.

*****

Archer cleared the bio-scan quickly. The others, however, were detained in DeCon for over an hour. Not that any of them minded. They actually managed to finagle an extra thirty minutes by convincing Dr. Phlox to run all his tests a second time. Reed was especially happy for the time to simply relax and let the chamber do its job. It wasn't curing his cold—viruses were outside the purview of the system—but it was certainly making him feel better.

When the trio finally emerged, he was feeling almost normal again. He knew it wouldn't last, but he relished the moment. They dressed and emerged from the chamber.

Phlox was waiting for them. "You're all off duty until tomorrow," announced the Denobulan, "except you, Lieutenant." He looked at Reed.

"Sorry?" said Malcolm, thoroughly confused.

"You are off duty until I say otherwise. And you're confined to quarters for the duration of your cold. It's a stop-gap measure, certainly, but I want you isolated until I'm certain you haven't infected anyone else."

"But—" the Tactical Officer tried to protest.

"No arguments this time. There's no shipwreck, no alien vessels attacking. In fact, there's nothing going on that can't go on without you for a day or two. I'll assign a crewman to bring you your meals, and I've already arranged for a security guard to escort you to your cabin—just to make sure you go directly there. I'm sure you understand." He tapped the comm panel and spoke into it. "Ensign?"

The doors opened and Cormack stepped into the room. She moved aside to allow Sato and T'Pol to exit. She caught the amused look on Hoshi's face as the ensign passed her, and had to fight to keep her own expression neutral.

"If you'll come with me, Lieutenant?" Cormack said. Without a word, Reed followed her out the door. "This wasn't my idea," Stephanie said quietly.

"I didn't think it was," Malcolm replied.

She wasn't sure she believed him. "I was just handy, I think," she continued, feeling some explanation was necessary. "I came to check on you all, and the doctor asked me to do him a favor. I kind of figured I owed him, considering all the crap I've given him when I've been a patient."

"It's all right," Reed assured her. "Honestly, for once I don't mind being forced to take a little time off. Usually, it drives me crazy not having anything to do. But just now, all I want to do is sleep for the next week."

"Well, I doubt you'll be off the hook for that long," said Cormack with a smile.

"No," Malcolm agreed. "And that's probably for the best." He sniffed then, his sinuses once again beginning to clog up. "So much for that," he said with a tired sigh.

"Commander Tucker was worried about you," Stephanie said out of the blue. "I let him know you were okay, just stuck in DeCon for a while."

He wasn't sure what to say. "I… Thanks," he managed at last.

"No problem."

"How did he take it? You knowing…about us, I mean?"

"I think he was a little surprised," she had to admit. "But I think he was also sort of glad. You know how you feel when you share a heavy secret? How all of a sudden it seems a little easier to handle?"

Malcolm nodded. "I know exactly what you mean."

"I think maybe it was like that."

"Good," he said quietly. They arrived at his cabin, and he keyed in the unlock code. "Thanks for walking me home," he joked.

"Any time," said Cormack. She gave a small chuckle that unexpectedly turned into a cough. Reed looked at her suggestively, and her eyes widened. "No. Absolutely not."

"That's how mine started."

"You're making that up to freak me out," she accused desperately.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"Well…well…shit!" she swore vehemently and coughed again—harder this time. She sneezed suddenly.

"Hang on." Reed stepped into his quarters and emerged a second later with a handful of tissues. "That should be enough to get you back to sickbay," he said, handing them to her.

"Thanks so much," she snarled.

*****

Twenty minutes later, Reed was ready for bed. He was just about to climb under the covers when he heard the door chime.

"That must have been the shortest quarantine in history," he muttered. He moved tiredly to the door and called out, "Who is it?"

"Dr. Phlox," came the reply.

Malcolm opened the door and leaned on the frame. "What can I do for you, doctor? You can see I'm following your orders, if that's what you're wondering."

"Not quite. I have something for you." Phlox stepped to one side revealing a miserable looking Ensign Cormack. She held a small case in one hand and a pillow in the other.

"I'm really sorry, Lieutenant," she said, sniffing. "It was Dr. Phlox's idea."

Reed looked from her to Dr. Phlox and back again. "I'm confused," he said at last.

"Your confinement is no longer solitary," the doctor said. "In you go, Ensign." He gestured Stephanie into the cabin. Reluctantly, she entered and stood just inside and to one side of the door. She couldn't meet Reed's quizzical gaze. Phlox continued. "You've got the same cold, and leaving her in her own cabin would have meant relocating her roommate. It seemed simplest to quarter her here with you."

"But—" Reed tried to protest.

"Ah, ah," the doctor interrupted. "None of that. It will be less work for the ship's internal air filters if you're both in the same place. And you'll both have someone to keep you company." He handed a small stack of blankets to the lieutenant who took them out of reflex. "Get some sleep. I'll be by to check on you both tomorrow morning. Good night." He turned and left, the door sliding shut at his departure.

There was a silence in which Reed continued to stare at the closed door. Eventually, his glance shifted and he looked at Cormack.

"I'm really sorry," she said wretchedly. "I feel bad enough just from the cold. I tried to tell him I'd be better off in my own quarters. Liz wouldn't have minded for just a couple of days, but…" She trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

"It's all right, Stephanie," he said. "The lav's there." He pointed to the small door at one end of the room. "Why don't you give me the pillow and go get ready for bed?"

Cormack just nodded and went into the little room. When she emerged again, she was wearing her long, red-plaid pajama bottoms and a white tank top with a red maple leaf and the slogan "Canadian Girls Kick Ass" on it. She set her boots on the floor under the desk and placed her folded uniform on top of the boots.

Malcolm looked up from where he was spreading the extra blankets on the floor, caught sight of the shirt and had to chuckle. Stephanie glanced down at it and gave a slightly embarrassed shrug. "It's from when I was in a band," she said.

"You were in a band? Didn't you once say you wouldn't be caught dead in front of an audience?"

"That's acting. A band is different. Can I give you a hand?" she asked, pointing to his task.

He shook his head. "No. I've got it. What kind of band was it?"

She sat in the desk chair, grabbed a tissue to stifle a sneeze. "You're going to laugh."

"I won't, I promise. I don't have the energy."

"It was kind of…Wiccan Punk." Despite his claim, Reed had to stifle a choking laugh. "Aw. You promised!" groaned Stephanie, not really mad but needing to tease. "We called ourselves Daughters of Lear. It was just me and a couple of girlfriends. They go by Cordelia's Sisters now. They changed the name when I left for Starfleet training and they decided to keep playing music."

"_You_ were _Cordelia_?" he asked, making an accurate guess from the band's name change.

"Hard to believe, I know," she answered wryly. "Noel's stage name is Goneril and Lynn's is Regan. They're really good. They got a contract with a big label last year."

"Good for them." He sat back on his heels, his job complete.

"Thanks," said Cormack, looking at her "bed" for the night. "Just don't step on me in the dark, okay?"

"It's not for you. You can take the bunk."

"I can't do that. It's bad enough you've got company you didn't ask for. I can't take your bed, too!"

"Will you please just go to bed? I'm too tired to argue."

"Good. So get in the bunk, I'll take the floor, and we can both get some sleep."

"Ensign—" he began.

"No, _Lieutenant_," she countered quickly. "You're not pulling rank this time. We're neither of us on duty, so it's not going to work."

"This is going to go on all night, isn't it?" said Reed wearily.

"Only if you keep arguing."

"Fine. If you're that adamant, we can share the bunk. It's not huge, but we should both fit." Stephanie started at him, bewildered. "I'm not letting you sleep on the floor."

"But—"

"Stephanie. You know I'm not going to try anything. I wouldn't even if I were healthy."

"That's not what I meant," she said hastily. "I just…" She sighed. "Okay. Like you said—I'm too tired to fight anymore. Hand me my pillow?" she asked reaching out a hand.

"It's on the bunk. This one's mine." He picked up the one from the makeshift bed on the floor.

"You just weren't going to let me win, were you?"

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I had?" he countered gently.

She looked at him, perplexed. "I'm sure there's a hole in your logic somewhere."

"You can ask T'Pol about it later."

"Yeah," she said sarcastically. "Like _that's_ going to happen." She crawled wearily into the bed, scooted over as far as she could to make room for the lieutenant.

"Settled?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"Good." He shut off the light and took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim starlight coming through the port. Satisfied he wasn't going to trip over anything, he made his way to the bunk and climbed in. "Good night, Ensign," he said with a slightly joking tone, amused by the absurdity of the juxtaposition of the formal title with the intimate situation.

The irony was lost on the ailing Cormack. "Night," she mumbled from the depths of her pillow.

Malcolm shut his eyes and was soon asleep.

*****

End Log 15  
_(Completed 5 Feb 02)_

Continued in Log 16


	16. Log 16

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

**Secondary Disclaimer** – My editrix is right—it's time for a Schrodinger's Cat. (Yeah, yeah, I didn't recognize the name, either.) For us layfolk, that's a fancy name for a parallel universe. Yes, like Ace Rimmer, I must take my ship and jump to another dimension. "But wait!" I hear you cry. (Okay, maybe not you, but I can hear _someone_ shouting.) "You've queered up two of the main characters! Aren't you already in a parallel universe?!" My answer, "No." Up until now, I've tried to play the game by TPTB's rules, trying to handle whatever curves they throw me. Well, no more! That's it! I've come to the conclusion that The Powers That Be are reading my mind and _deliberately f**king me up!_ Okay, I know it's not true, but _honestly!_ So, from here on out, if I don't like something on the show, I'm not gonna use it. It doesn't exist in my world. So there! Nyah! :-P

*****

**Log 16:** (Takes place immediately following the events of _Log 15_, preceding and during _Shadows of P'Jem_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

The first two days of confinement went by in a haze of stuffy heads and hacking coughs. Occasionally, Doctor Phlox would make a house-call to check on them, but there wasn't much he could do. A steward came by at regular intervals bearing food and wearing a bio-filter mask of the kind usually reserved for harsh but non-lethal environments. For the most part, the meals went untouched. Neither Malcolm nor Stephanie was much in the mood for eating. It was only when Phlox ordered them to take in some nourishment that they listlessly ate a little.

By day three they were starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, with a return to awareness outside their illness came the normal human responses of people trapped in each other's company with little distraction. They were beginning to get on one another's nerves.

Malcolm hadn't been thrilled with the enforced company to start with, although he knew it could have been a lot worse. At least Stephanie was a friend; he was more comfortable with her than just about anyone else on the crew. And she knew him well enough to know some of his foibles. She was being very careful to keep what little of her own possessions she had with her organized and tidy. He hadn't even needed to ask; she knew he was a bit of a neat freak. _Okay,_ he admitted to himself, _a lot of a neat freak._

Still, tempers were wearing thin. Both were relieved for the distraction when the steward arrived bearing not just lunch but the mail. Cormack had offered to wait for her turn with the computer until he was done reading his even though Reed could tell she was practically bursting to see what she'd received.

"Go ahead," Malcolm said as they ate their steaming chicken soup. "I'm not in a hurry." As a general rule, he didn't get much mail—just the occasional letter from his friend Mark and technical updates from the weapons development team at Starfleet. He'd been surprised the other week to receive birthday greetings from both his sister and his mother. He wasn't surprised not to hear from his father. Of course, his mother had said he sent his good wishes, but she always said that. Whatever this newest correspondence was, it could wait.

"You're sure?" Stephanie asked. She was desperate for some news from home. It was getting on toward October; she had to know if her team would make it to the World Series.

"Of course," he replied.

"Thanks!" She finished up her lunch quickly and set the bowl aside. Loading the card into the computer, she opened up the letter.

Malcolm took his time over his soup. It was the first real food he'd had since Phlox confined them. He'd simply had no inclination to eat the last two days. It was nice to finally enjoy something again.

He'd just finished eating when Cormack cried out enthusiastically, "Woo-hoo!" She then spent the next half-minute coughing violently.

"Are you all right?" asked Reed. He set his now empty bowl on the desk and reached over to give her a pat on the back.

When the spasm of coughing finally subsided, the ensign managed to choke out, "Yeah. I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Mm-hmm." She took a swallow of water to clear her throat.

"So, what was worth all that?" 

"Good news from home," said Cormack when she'd regained her breath. "The Orcas swept the White Sox in the first round of the play-offs, and now they're two and one over Oakland."

Reed gave her a bemused look. "Baseball again?" he asked. He'd completely forgotten about the sport since his brief foray into fandom on Stephanie's behalf that July. He rose and moved to the bunk. Pulling a book off a shelf, he sat.

"Hey, we're down to the wire here," she replied. "Two more wins and the Orcas go to the World Series! Gemma sent a couple of video reports. Want to watch?"

"No, thanks."

"I really think you'd like baseball if you just tried." She returned her attention to the letter she was reading.

"I'm more of a rugby man." Malcolm took a moment to blow his nose before he leaned back against the bulkhead and settled in to read for a while. 

"Oh my gods!" Cormack exclaimed.

"What?" demanded Reed, startled and concerned at the tone of her voice.

"I was on TV!"

"What?" he repeated, certain he couldn't have heard her correctly.

"I was on TV!" she said again.

"How? We're over one hundred light-years from Earth."

"I'm looking. I'm looking." She frantically skimmed down the screen searching for details. "Apparently Cordelia's Sisters' new album just went platinum, and the CBC did a retrospective on them. Wait" She read the paragraph more carefully. "Okay. The CBC did a special documentary mini-series on Canadian bands and it included Cordelia's Sisters."

"I still don't see how that means you were on television."

"Ryn says Oh fuck. She says Mom gave them access to all the home vids of when we played together as Daughters of Lear." Stephanie hung her head, buried her face in her hands. "Bad, bad. Very bad."

Reed's interest was piqued. "Why bad?" he wanted to know.

"Are you kidding?" She glanced over her shoulder at him, brushing her wild curls out of her face. "We were just college kids. We were playing _Wiccan Punk_," she added emphatically.

"You can't have been that bad if their new album went platinum," Malcolm said logically.

"Oh no," Stephanie agreed. "We weren't bad. In fact, we were pretty damn good. But we _looked_" She couldn't finish the sentence, but hid her face again and shuddered. "Oh, this is so very, very bad."

Reed got up off the bunk and leaned on the desk beside the traumatized Cormack. "Did your sister-in-law send a video of that, too?" he asked curiously.

Stephanie looked up sharply. "Shit, I hope not!" she exclaimed. But she was too slow. Malcolm had spotted the attachment on the screen and called it up. "Oh no! Don't!"

"Are you joking? There's precious little entertainment on this ship—even less stuck in here. You're not going to deny me this one little piece are you?" He gave her a wicked grin.

"Fine," she relented. "Play it. But if you tell _anyone_" She let the threat hang in the air.

"Word of honor," he promised sincerely.

"Okay."

Malcolm hit the playback and the clip began to run. He watched the screen intently. "Is that a safety pin?" he asked at one point. Cormack just nodded. He considered trying not to laugh, but decided it wasn't worth it. He was bound to end up coughing either way, so why not have it out to begin with? When he'd finished laughing (and coughing) however, he began to listen to the music.

Cormack just sat silently, enthralled and horrified by what she was seeing. She peered through her fingers at the images. "Shit. It's like a car wreck," she said at one point.

"Shh!" Reed shushed her. She looked at him, baffled. He seemed quite engrossed in the video. The montage of their college gigs led into an interview with Noel and Lynn. They were looking far less ridiculous these days, Stephanie was happy to note. They talked about the music and the history of the band; she heard her own name mentioned more than once. Then, horror of horrors, there was her picture from Starfleet records split-screened with a shot of her from a concert with the caption "Ensign Stephanie Cormack: currently serving on the Starfleet vessel _Enterprise_."

"Goddess help me," she moaned. "Tell me no one else on board is going to see this!"

Next, there were clips of songs from the new album. Finally—and Stephanie didn't know whether to be flattered or appalled—they ended the interview with her friends waving at the camera and shouting, "We miss you, Cordy!"

The video ended and silence filled the small cabin. It was Cormack who broke it. "When the doc lets us out of here, the first thing I'm doing is throwing myself out an airlock."

Malcolm chuckled. "It wasn't nearly as bad as all that."

She just glared at him. "Are you kidding? You saw it all. How can you say that? My hair was _pink_!" Before he could protest, she added emphatically, "_For three years!_"

He had to laugh again at that. "No one's going to know that unless you tell them," he said practically. He sat back down on the bunk. "And odds are no one else here will have seen this. It's not exactly the kind of news Starfleet is likely to forward."

"I know, but" She hid her face yet again then looked up at him over spread fingers. "You promise you won't tell?"

"Of course. I gave you my word."

"Thank you." Stephanie sighed and lowered her hands.

"Besides," he added sincerely, "I thought you were quite good. I had no idea you could sing, or play the guitar for that matter."

"You're being way too generous. I only played backup, and singing Well, I suppose _technically_ you could call it that"

"Well, I enjoyed it."

She looked at him doubtfully. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Huh. Wouldn't have guessed you'd go in for that kind of music. But, thanks." She sat up straight and turned back to the computer to finish reading her letter. 

Malcolm returned to his bunk and was just settling back in with his book when he said, "One question, though."

"Yeah?" Stephanie glanced over at him.

"Do you still wear the safety pin?" he asked with a teasing grin.

Cormack stood and pulled her pajamas back dangerously far to reveal her bare midriff. "See for yourself," she said wickedly.

Reed's eyes widened in surprise. Stephanie thought he might even be blushing. "I'll take that as a no," he said, hastily turning his attention to his book.

She regretted her actions immediately. Quickly resettling her pants and shirt, she said, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"No, no," said Malcolm. He coughed a little, cleared his throat. "Fair's fair. I should be able to take as good as I get. I just wasn't expecting that."

"Come on. At least I didn't flash you," she offered, hoping more levity would make the situation better rather than worse. It worked.

Reed chuckled quietly. "No, not quite. No offense but, thanks for that."

"Humpf," grunted Cormack crossing her arms over her chest and pretending to pout. "There are people on this ship who'd be thrilled if I flashed them."

"I've no doubt. I'm just not one of them."

"Touché." Stephanie grinned. She turned her attention once more to the computer screen. "Well, I still need to get the image of those concert shots out of my head. I think I've earned the baseball vids Gemma sent."

"That seems fair," agreed Malcolm with a smile.

*****

Cutler was on her bunk going over the newest edition of _The Exobiology Journal_ when the door chimed unexpectedly. She jumped. It had been a quiet few days, what with her bunkmate quarantined elsewhere, and she wasn't expecting anyone to stop by. "Who is it?" she called out.

"It's Ensign Lawless," came the reply.

Liz was surprised but rose and opened the door. "Hi," she said, puzzled. "If you're looking for Stephanie, she's still not out of confinement."

"Actually, I'm not." Lawless gave a furtive look up and down the corridor. "Can I come in?"

Confused but curious, Cutler ushered the engineer inside. "What's up?"

"I have something you have _got_ to see." Mae pulled a clear plastic card out of a pocket. She glanced over at the computer. "May I?"

"Sure." Liz was becoming more intrigued by the second, although she wasn't quite sure why. She decided it must be due to Lawless's clandestine attitude. "What is it?" she asked as the two crowded in front of the computer screen.

"Check it out," was all Mae said. She ran the file the card contained.

It was an excerpt from a CBC documentary about a bunch of Canadian bands. Cutler couldn't see what was so special about the video, until

"That's Stephanie!" she exclaimed. "What on Earth is this?"

"Keep watching."

"She never told me she was in a band!" Cutler's eyes widened as the vid continued to play the montage of concert footage. "And I didn't know she has a pierced bellybutton! We've been bunkmates for six months. How could I not notice that? And I recognize that shirt! "

Lawless was trying not to laugh out loud. Cutler's commentary was almost as entertaining as the video, but she didn't want the ensign to miss anything.

When the clip ended, Liz just stood there, slack-jawed in astonishment. "Where did you get this?" she demanded finally.

"Sorry. I have to protect my sources," said Mae only half-joking.

"Do you think she's seen it?" Liz finally tore her eyes from the screen and sat on her bunk.

Mae pulled out the computer chair and plopped down into it. "I don't know, but I really hope not."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? Think of the potential teasing we could do with this information! I mean, what are friends for if not to make your life a living hell once in a while?" She gave Cutler a wicked grin, which the exobiologist slowly returned.

"Oh, you're just mean," she accused, grinning.

"You always hurt the ones you love," Lawless answered.

"You realize she'll kill us."

The engineer shrugged. "I'm willing to take that chance. Are you? It's totally cool if you don't want to help."

Liz considered it seriously for several moments, her dark eyes almost brooding in their intensity. Finally, she looked across at Mae impishly. "Oh, I'm in."

*****

"Damn!" swore Trip vehemently.

"Are you okay, Commander?" asked Lawless.

"Yeah," he replied, chagrined. He sat down and rubbed the back of his head gingerly. "Just miscalculated and hit my head on the opening of the jefferies tube. Whose idea was it to make these things so damned small?"

Lawless crawled out of the tube and kneeled next to him. "Do you need anything? Icepack?"

"No, thanks."

The pair had been working on realigning one of the magnetic constrictors. It wasn't far enough out yet to cause trouble with the plasma flow to the warp reactor, but Trip was a firm believer in the "ounce of prevention" theory of engineering—particularly when it concerned his warp engines.

Tucker took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the sharp pain in his head subsided to a dull ache. "That's what I get for not keeping my mind on my work," he muttered.

"Sir?" Lawless looked at him quizzically.

"Nothing." He knew he was like a schoolboy preoccupied with his first crush. He felt foolish enough just admitting it to himself; there was no way he was going to voice the issue aloud. 

He hadn't talked to Malcolm since Phlox had confined the lieutenant to his quarters, and it was driving him nuts. At first, he hadn't wanted to bother him. He knew whenever he was sick the last thing he wanted was to be forced to make pleasant conversation; it was a good bet Malcolm would feel similarly. Then he'd learned Cormack was quarantined with him. He'd had to fight not to bite the head off of the poor soul who'd happened to bring him that piece of information. _No point killing the messenger,_ he'd thought at the time. Had he known Reed's current confinement happened to include sharing a bunk, he'd have gone completely ballistic despite all reasoning. Of course he was aware his jealousy of Cormack was absurd—and for a number of reasons. He'd reminded himself of them repeatedly over the past three days. It helped, but not a lot. 

The only thing that would really help was to talk to Malcolm—just chat, see how he was doing. But Trip was hesitant to do even that. He knew Cormack was aware of the relationship, new though it was, between himself and Reed. That didn't mean he cared to have her overhearing a personal conversation between them, which she undoubtedly would if he contacted the lieutenant. Tucker was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He just hoped Malcolm would understand why he hadn't even called.

"I hear Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Cormack might be released today," said Lawless unexpectedly.

"Huh?" grunted Trip, completely taken aback. He didn't think he'd spoken aloud, but one couldn't always be sure. He'd never seen anything in Lawless's file that indicated high ESP levels, either, but that possibility crossed his mind, too.

As far as Mae was concerned, she was just making conversation to pass the time until the commander was ready to get back to work. So, unaware of the depth of the reaction she'd elicited, she continued. "I talked to Cormack's bunkmate, Liz Cutler, last night. She told me Phlox was just about ready to let them out, seeing as no one else has gotten sick. I bet they'll be glad. Stuck in a cabin with the same person for three days knowing you can't leave That can't be much fun." She shook her head.

"No," agreed Trip half-heartedly. In truth, he was thinking three days with no company but Malcolm sounded pretty damn good.

Finally, the pain in his head subsided enough that he was ready to tackle their current project once more. "Ready to go back in?" he asked the ensign.

"Whenever you are," said Mae.

He started to crawl back into the tube, then remembered why he'd emerged in the first place and stopped. "Actually," he said slightly chagrined. "I gotta I'll be right back." He headed to the nearest lav.

*****

Late into day four Reed and Cormack got a pleasant surprise. Phlox brought them the happy news personally.

"You are no longer in danger of contaminating anyone else aboard," he told them with a smile. "And you're both cleared to return to your duties tomorrow morning." 

"Thank you, Doctor," Stephanie said emphatically. Quickly, she gathered up her things. Once she had everything together, she looked at Malcolm. "I wouldn't say it's been fun," she began, "but that's nothing to do with you." They exchanged a smile. "Thanks for your hospitality, involuntary though it was."

"Still planning to throw yourself out that airlock?" Reed teased gently.

Cormack hung her head. "You had to bring that up, didn't you?" she moaned. 

Phlox just looked them both, uncomprehending. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

Stephanie was too preoccupied to reply. She abruptly re-opened her small case to make sure the card containing the letter from home and the related video clip was safely tucked away. 

"Nothing, Doctor," said Reed. "Just a little joke."

"Whew!" sighed Cormack, pulling the card from her case. "As long as no one else gets their hands on this, I think the airlock can wait. Besides, I really want a shower." She shoved the card back in, burying it toward the bottom.

"Agreed. A shower sounds positively splendid. I'll see you tomorrow morning in the Armory."

"Yes, sir!" she smiled. "Getting back to work will be almost as refreshing as sleeping in my own bunk."

Phlox escorted her out into the corridor. "Good evening, Lieutenant," he said to Reed as they departed.

"Good evening, Doctor," the tactical officer replied. He closed the door and looked around the cabin. It seemed strangely quiet without Stephanie there. Not that she was particularly noisy; it just felt odd to be by himself for the first time in four days. Still, he had his blessed solitude and privacy back. There were far worse bunkmates on board, he was certain, but he was pleased to be on his own once more. 

He gathered up the extra blankets Phlox had brought when he'd first escorted Cormack to Reed's quarters. He began to fold them neatly, then realized the absurdity of his actions and simply tossed them down the laundry chute. The bed sheets soon followed—he could pick up a fresh set on his way back from the shower room. It was a standard routine he remembered from his youth. The first thing his mother had always done after he or his sister had been ill was wash everything they'd come in contact with. Now, he found the ritual comforting as well as simply sensible.

Satisfied, he gathered up his claret-colored bathrobe and a fresh towel and headed toward the shower room.

*****

After several days in her pajamas, Cormack was surprised how good it felt to put her uniform on once more. She wasn't as thrilled at getting up early, but the return to routine was almost refreshing. She wove her long blonde hair into its customary french braid as Cutler brushed out her shorter brown locks. Naturally, Liz was done first.

"You're out of practice," she teased. She sat on her bunk waiting. They were getting breakfast together today—an unusual occurrence since Cutler's duty shift was usually later than her bunkmate's.

"I know," answered Stephanie around the hairband she held in her teeth. She finally reached the end of her braid and wrapped the band around it before tucking the tail under and clipping it all in place.

"That just seems like a lot of effort to go to everyday," Liz commented. "Why don't you just cut it?"

"In my world, this is actually less work than dealing with short hair."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Nope." She quickly pulled on her boots and she was ready to go. "Come on. I'm dying for a latté."

"So," said Liz as they made their way to the mess hall, "how was it bunking with your boss?"

"Actually, it was fine. We both got a bit snarky toward the end, but it wasn't bad at all."

Cutler was surprised. "Really? I'd've thought it would beI don't knowweird."

Cormack shrugged. "If he wasn't a friend as well as my C.O. it would have been well awkward," she agreed. "But we were both so sick the first couple of days, I could've been quartered with an orangutan and I wouldn't have noticed or cared."

"Ew!" Liz exclaimed at the image. Then added mischievously, "I'm going to tell him you said that."

"Go ahead. I expect he'll agree."

They entered the mess hall and Cormack's first action was to order up her traditional double latté. She refused all further conversation until she'd had a sip. She sighed. "Gods, that feels good!" Liz got herself a glass of orange juice, and they headed over to the solid food. "Mm! Pancakes!" Stephanie exclaimed, taking a plate of the golden-brown treat. She set down her latté just long enough to claim a dollop of peanut butter, which she plopped unceremoniously onto the top-most pancake.

Liz looked at her askance. "What are you doing?"

"Peanut butter is great on pancakes," replied Stephanie matter-of-factly.

"I think I'm glad we don't usually get to eat breakfast together." She claimed another plate and topped her own pancakes with the more traditional maple syrup.

"I don't usually eat breakfast, period," her bunkmate said as they found a table and sat. The mess hall was fairly busy at this hour, but quiet. Cormack harbored the suspicion that the majority of the crew weren't morning people. Silly, considering time out in space was even more arbitrary than it was back on Earth. "Food and mornings don't usually sit well together in my system. But today I'm hungry, and the peanut butter thing is new to me. I learned it from Lieutenant Reed just yesterday."

"You picked up his bad habits that quickly?"

"Bad habit, singular," Stephanie corrected. "If you can even call it that. Besides, I think it's the only one he has—unless you call fanatical tidiness a bad habit."

"Well, _I_ might not" Liz let the implication hang in the air.

"Ha ha," was Cormack's flat reply.

"Come on, you know I'm just teasing."

"Yeah." She grinned. "Hey!" she called out suddenly, spotting Lawless across the room. She waved the engineer over.

"Hey, yourself," Mae said as she approached. She set her breakfast on the table and took a seat. "You look like you're feeling better."

"You have no idea. I'm feeling positively human again," Cormack declared.

"Since when do humans eat pancakes with peanut butter on them?"

"I can't speak for the species, but for myself—since yesterday." She took a big bite to emphasize her point.

Mae just shook her head. "So, what was it like being stuck in the same room as your C.O. for four days?" she asked

Caught with her mouth full, Stephanie almost choked as she tried not to laugh. "That's almost exactly what Liz asked," she explained to the surprised Lawless as soon as she was able. "It was fine. It was what you'd expect being stuck in a room for four days with only one other person for company would be like."

"That's not a situation I would ever expect to describe as 'fine'," declared Mae, punctuating her sentence with a bite of cereal. She washed the bite down with some cranberry juice before continuing. "Besides, it wasn't just any other person. It was your C.O. I know you guys are friends but I mean, I like my C.O., don't get me wrong. But the idea of bunking with Commander Tuckerno. You know what I mean? Just—no. Not even on a normal day—never mind how weird he's been all week."

"What do you mean?" Cormack wanted to know.

"He's been sort of distracted. I thought he was coming down with that cold at first, he was so spacey. But, nope. Turns out he's just spacey."

"That's odd."

"It really is. He's always been pretty laid back in his command style, but I've never seen him so" She hunted for the right word. "unfocused."

"Huh. Hope he's okay," Cormack said, concerned. She had a guess as to what was causing the commander's distracted state, but couldn't say anything here. She'd thought it a little odd he hadn't once, to her knowledge, called to check on Lieutenant Reed. Granted, she could have been out cold at the time and never noticed. But if Trip had called, surely Malcolm would have mentioned it. _Wouldn't he?_ she wondered. _Of course he would._

"Hello? Earth to Stephanie," Liz said.

"Huh?" Cormack looked at her, startled. "Sorry. Did you say something?"

"Only about three times."

"This is what I'm talking about," put in Lawless. "Just like the commander. Are you sure this isn't a symptom of your illness?" she asked.

"Maybe it is. Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to join my RPG group," said Liz. "We finished up our latest campaign, and I thought you might like it. Mae's already agreed to play."

"Yeah. Sounds like fun. My brother used to play when we were kids, but I was always too busy taking apart my dad's motorcycle to pay attention," said the engineer.

"I hope you put it back together when you were done," said Stephanie. "Otherwise, I'm going to fear for my life next time we go to warp."

"Of course she did," interjected Liz, trying to get back to the topic at hand. She and Mae had worked on this set-up over lunch the previous day. It just took a yea vote from her bunkmate to set the ball rolling. "What do you say? Interested?"

"First, tell me exactly what an RPG group is."

"Role-Playing Game group," Cutler clarified. "You roll up your characters, and I lead you through a campaign. In our case, it'll be the science-fiction genre as opposed to the traditional fantasy backdrop. So? Sound fun?"

Stephanie thought about it a moment before answering, "Sure. Why not? But when were you going to start?"

"We hadn't really decided. Why?"

"It's nearly World Series time back home. If my team's in, I'm not going to be good for anything else fun until it's over."

"Fair enough. I suppose we could hold off a little—if the other players don't mind." Cutler gave an indifferent shrug. She didn't want to push too hard, seem too eager; she had to play it cool. In her lap, her fingers were crossed in the hope that Cormack wouldn't ask what the new campaign would be.

"I'm okay with it, for what that's worth," said Mae. "Who else is playing?"

"Travis is in, and so is Ethan." Ethan Novakovitch was a friend of Cutler's from the science department. Neither Cormack nor Lawless knew him personally, but Stephanie had heard her bunkmate mention him on several occasions. "I'll check with them today. Let me know when you find out about your precious baseball team?" Liz asked teasingly.

"If the Orcas beat Oakland, everyone on the ship will know. Trust me," Cormack replied, and grinned.

*****

Tucker had hoped to catch Reed that afternoon at lunch, but Archer's sudden announcement and subsequent invitation had taken him completely by surprise. T'Pol was being transferred? It didn't make senseuntil the captain explained the situation over lunch as he'd promised.

"Sounds to me like they're just looking for a scapegoat," the engineer said angrily. It didn't matter that the Vulcan woman wasn't his favorite crewmate; she was still a crewmate and deserving of his support.

"I know," Archer replied. The lines of frustration were clear in his face and his shoulders were tensed in a way Tucker recognized well.

"You and I were there, too," added Trip. "I'd expect them to blame _us_ for the destruction of their sanctuary before they attack one of their own."

"I'm sure they do. But they don't have any jurisdiction over you and me. They do over T'Pol."

"That just isn't fair! I've never been real fond of the Vulcans, but I've always thought of them as fair-minded. It's justlogical."

"I'd have thought so," agreed Jon. "Seems to me their repressed emotions are rearing their ugly heads, and T'Pol's a 'logical' target." The last was said with heavy sarcasm.

"Isn't there anything you can do? File a protest or something?"

"I already have—with the High Command and Starfleet. I know Admiral Forrest isn't in control of this one, but I wanted it to be on record." He sat back in his chair, his lunch largely untouched and entirely forgotten. "So, you understand why I'm taking her on this mission?"

"Sure." Tucker shrugged. "I can't say I'm not disappointed—I'd love to see the Coridan shipyards—but I understand."

"Good. I'm going to need you to keep everything here running smoothly until she and I get back from the planet. The Vulcans aren't supposed to arrive for a couple of days, but I wouldn't put it past them to show up early just to catch us unprepared."

Trip looked at his old friend, wished there was some way he could help. The only thing he could do was keep the ship running smoothly, as Jon had asked. Tucker had every intention of doing just that. "No problem," he said. It was a promise.

*****

Unfortunately, it was a promise Trip couldn't keep. There was no way he could have anticipated the attack that brought the captain's shuttlepod down. And even had he been there, there wasn't a thing he could have done to stop Archer and T'Pol being abducted. That didn't keep him from blaming himself, though, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault.

Tucker had lost his temper in a most unprofessional manner with the representative from the Coridan government. He knew it. He tried to give a damn and failed. She'd allowed his people to fly into danger without giving them the slightest hint of what they might be in for. He was furious.

Reed wasn't any happier. Trip could see it in his expression, hear it in his voice as they discussed their options. So far, they were few. 

Malcolm had found what he believed was the captain's shuttlepod in the shanty town that surrounded the Coridan capital city. However, without proof of human or Vulcan bio-signs in the area, going in to check it out was an unnecessary risk. Tucker hated to be the one to play it cautious; his instincts in this case meshed with the tactical officer's perfectly. But when Reed said he had a rescue team standing by, Trip had to say no.

"Hold on, Malcolm." Trip straightened up from the screen they'd been examining and shook his head. "We don't even know if this is our pod. I don't want to go down and find it's some alien tractor."

"It's our shuttlepod," Reed asserted, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm certain of it." He eased off a little, tried another tactic. "All I'm suggesting is we go down and have a look around."

The comm beeped then, suspending further discussion.

By the time Tucker was done taking calls, he was well and truly pissed off. First a rebel with a ransom demand, then a Vulcan captain who seemed awfully contemptuous for someone claiming emotionless detachment. He had one hour until the Vulcans arrived. It was time to plan.

Under normal circumstances, he never would have presumed to use the captain's ready room without his permission. But he needed to talk with Lieutenant Reed and the ready room was both convenient and private.

"Lieutenant?" he said, gesturing to the door. Reed gave him a mildly surprised look, but simply nodded. "Travis, you have the bridge," Tucker shot over his shoulder as he followed Malcolm inside.

The door shut behind him, and Trip let out a frustrated sigh. "This is not turning out to be a good day." There was really nothing for Reed to say to that, so he remained silent. Tucker looked at him. "I'm open to any suggestions you might have," he said. He leaned against the edge of desk, not quite comfortable enough in the captain's space to sit down behind it.

"I've already said I have a team waiting," was the lieutenant's reply. He stood stiffly in the middle of the small room, his arms once again crossed in front of him.

The commander wanted to say, _"Yes. Send them now."_ Instead, he shook his head. "I'm just not ready to send people down there. Not when we don't know what they'll be going into. We've already lost the captain and T'Pol. I'm not risking anyone else until we have more information."

"There's only so much information we can gather from here," countered Reed. "A small team could infiltrate the site, gather data, and be back out before anyone's spotted them."

"I presume you intend to lead the team yourself," Trip said.

"Yes."

"No."

"Commander, with all due respect—"

"Stop right there, Malcolm." He regarded the lieutenant carefully. Despite everything going on, Trip wanted to take a moment just to pause, ask how he was, do or say something to show that he hadn't really been ignoring him for the better part of the past week. He wanted to know what Reed was thinking and feeling outside of rescue missions and emergencies. _When this is over,_ the engineer promised himself. _First thing._

"Commander?" Reed looked at him inquiringly. 

Tucker shook his head a little, realizing he'd been silent longer than he'd intended. "Sorry," he said. "Thinking." _One thing at a time, Trip,_ he told himself. _You've got a friend being held hostage on an alien planet. Bring him home, then deal with your own problems._ He looked at Malcolm, considering several possibilities. Finally, an idea struck him. "You and me," he said abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Malcolm wasn't sure what to say. His mind had been thoroughly on the job at hand, and Trip's sudden statement seemed off topic—until the engineer clarified.

"You and me. Two people are even less noticeable than four," he added, thinking of the standard three-person security team the lieutenant planned to lead. "You and I'll take another shuttlepod down to check out the site. We've got an hour before the Vulcans arrive, right?" Tucker was pacing the small room now, thinking hard. "We'll get everything we can from the ship's sensors in the next 45 minutes, then we'll head down there. The Vulcans can't stop us if we've already left."

"I agree, but why not send my team? We're ready to go."

"I'm not going to put someone else in danger without being willing to step into it myself," said Tucker firmly.

Reed looked at him intently, guessed rightly at at least some of the subtext below the spoken words. "That's a laudable attitude, Commander, but this is my job, and it's what my people are trained to do."

The two men considered each other in silence for several seconds. It was Trip who looked away first. "That's not all of it," he said at last.

"What do you mean?" asked Malcolm as Tucker sat heavily in one of the large chairs in the corner.

"You're right that I don't want to send you down there." He held up a hand to forestall the coming argument. "But that's not it. I would never stop you doing your job just because I wanted you safe here. That wouldn't be fair to you, and it wouldn't be professional." Reed was surprised at the admission, but managed to keep his expression neutral. However, he wasn't able to hide his reaction when Trip continued. "I have to get Jon out of there."

"Sir?" Although he knew the men were old friends, Reed had never heard Trip call the captain by his first name, and certainly not by such a familiar form of it.

Tucker looked up at him. "No. No 'sir'. No 'commander.'"

Reed was uncertain how to react to the tone in Trip's voice. _He sounds_ Malcolm shook his head. He couldn't place the emotion he heard. Concerned and puzzled, he moved to sit for the first time since they'd entered the ready room. He took the seat across from the engineer and said anxiously, "Are you all right?" He was unprepared for the resultant outburst.

"No! I'm frustrated, and I'm angry!" There was a pause again while Tucker collected himself. Then he added quietly, "And I'm a little scared." He looked across at Reed, and Malcolm could see the truth of what he said reflected in his eyes. "Archer's my captain, and that means a lot. But Jon is my friend, and that means even more. I owe him my life at least twice over. Malcolm, I've got to get him out of there."

"We will," Reed said resolutely. "I promise you that. Just let me take my team in—"

"I'm going with you. Just you and me." Tucker was determined, and Reed knew there was no point in continuing to argue.

"We'll be leaving Ensign Sato rather in the lurch," he pointed out. "What's she going to tell the Vulcans?"

Realizing he'd won, Trip relaxed a bit and gave the tactical officer a sly little smile, saying, "She can take it. She's a communications officer. A little _mis_communication should be a snap."

*****

They set to work immediately. Hoshi ran continual scans for human and Vulcan bio-signs, working outward in concentric circles from what Reed still insisted was the captain's shuttlepod. Travis had managed to spot a good landing site for them—secluded but not too far away from the initial search area. Their own pod was ready and waiting; Reed's team had prepped it when he'd first alerted them. It was a reasonable plan and it might even have worked had the Vulcans not been early yet again.

"You're letting them come aboard?" asked Mayweather from the helm.

Trip and Malcolm were at Tactical, going over what limited information they'd managed to gather in past half hour. "Did you have another suggestion, Ensign?" asked the commander.

That shut Travis up. "No, sir."

"There's no harm in hearing what they have to say," Tucker continued.

"Then we'll do exactly what we planned anyway," said Reed so quietly only Trip could hear him. The engineer had to fight back a smirk. Malcolm noticed and gave the smallest of shrugs as if to say, "Well, we will." It only made Trip want to laugh that much more.

He wasn't smiling when the Vulcan captain, Sopek, made his announcement that he'd be taking in his own team. An assault team, no less. He was going to get Jon and T'Pol killed, and he didn't even give a damn. 

When Sopek asked for any data they had Trip relished the moment for two reasons. First, he loved that for once Vulcans were forced to ask humans for help. Second, he thoroughly enjoyed lying to him. "Sorry," he'd said, not the least bit sorry. "We don't have anything." Trip waited for the small delegation to leave the bridge before looking over at Reed. "Warm up the shuttlepod."

Reed gave the slightest of nods accompanied by the smallest of satisfied smiles. He immediately headed for the launch bay.

Trip crossed to the comm station. "You know what to do, Hoshi?" he asked.

"Lie, deceive, disrupt the transmission, and hang up," the ensign replied with a falsely innocent smile.

Tucker grinned back. "I knew there was a reason the captain recruited you," he joked. He turned to the captain's chair and hit the comm button. "Tucker to the Armory."

"Young here. Go ahead."

"Who's on Beta shift for bridge duty?"

"I am, sir."

"Then get up here, Ensign."

"Yes, sir!"

Trip cut the comm and looked to Travis. "Are the Vulcans off the ship yet?"

"They just cleared the launch bay," the helmsman replied.

"Good. That's where I'm going." He headed to the lift and stepped inside. "Let me know when they're back on the _Ni'Var_."

"Aye, sir," called out Travis as the lift door shut.

*****

"You're sure you don't want backup?" Cormack asked one last time.

"Absolutely," Reed replied. He was giving their phase pistols one more check while he waited for Tucker to arrive. "You and the team stay here on alert, but don't move unless you hear from me or Commander Tucker."

"Yes, sir."

Trip arrived then. He'd grabbed jackets on his way and passed one to Reed. "It's liable to be cold down there." The lieutenant took it, traded him a phase pistol. "Coordinates all set?" Trip asked, holstering the gun and pulling on his coat.

"Yes, sir," replied Cormack. "Everything's ready for you."

Tucker looked at Reed. "Let's go."

*****

Getting down to landing site was easier than they'd expected. It was night on this side of the planet, and they were well outside the capitol city's sensor grid. Tucker piloted the pod to a gentle landing in the clearing Mayweather had spotted. They locked down the pod and moved out.

The pair saw a number of people scattered randomly around small fires as they made their cautious way through the shanty town, but they were few and far between. At that late hour, most people were inside their homes. "Hovels, more like," Reed muttered at one point.

"I guess not everyone gets to live in Emerald City," replied Trip just as quietly.

"Yeah."

That was when they were ambushed. Reed was still mentally kicking himself over it. He'd been so busy scanning for human and Vulcan life signs, he'd never seen their attackers coming. He didn't even know how many there were. Now, he could see nothing through the bag that had been pulled firmly over his head. He knew Trip was beside him and, he assumed, similarly restrained. Reed twisted his wrists behind him, trying to loosen his bonds.

A door opened. The two men could hear footsteps and then the sound of the door being firmly shut once again. Tucker heard something more that sounded achingly familiar and terribly out of place in this alien setting. It sounded just like an old chain-pull light being yanked on. The bag that covered his head was opaque; no light seeped through to tell him if he was right or wrong. Then unexpectedly that bag was removed, and he heard a voice he immediately recognized. It didn't fill him with confidence.

"You should have listened to the Vulcan. He warned you against doing anything foolish." The Andorian moved forward just enough for his antennae to be outlined in the dim light.

"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Trip. 

"Looking out for you pink-skins," he spat, stepping fully into the light. Tucker's instincts were right. It was Shran. "If you had gone anywhere near that shuttlepod, you'd have been killed."

The second Andorian—Trip couldn't remember his name, if he'd ever known it—leaned over between him and Reed. "They left it in the open for you to find."

That hurt. Reed had known it was a possibility, but hadn't seriously considered it. He'd trusted the Coridan chancellor's belief that the rebels were few and generally poorly organized. It was a clumsy mistake—almost as clumsy as letting themselves be captured by these Andorians. Now, he had to figure a way out of here—and they still didn't know where to begin looking for the Captain and T'Pol.

Tucker was still talking to the aliens, and Reed focused on what they were saying. Shran gave them a quick primer on the Coridan political situation: the allegedly corrupt Vulcan-supported government vs. the rebel factions.

"So, you and the rebels figure you both have a common enemy," Reed spoke for the first time.

"The hostage-takers have no plans to return your captain and the female. Once you deliver the weapons, they will be killed."

Malcolm glanced over at Trip, tried to gauge his reaction to this flat delivery of the facts. To his credit, the engineer showed no outward signs of distress at the news.

Shran continued. "Fortunately for you, we have a relationship with the downtrodden here."

"You tried to kill us last time we met. Why're you trying to help us now?" Tucker demanded. He didn't know whether to believe all the Andorian was saying or not. His instincts weren't much help here. When it came down to it, he trusted neither them nor the Vulcans.

However, the Andorians had apparently decided to trust the humans. Tucker and Reed found themselves finally released from their bonds.

"I haven'tslept well since our encounter at the Vulcan sanctuary," Shran said reluctantly. "I don't like being indebted to anyone, least of all your captain."

It was an explanation Trip felt in his gut was true. "You're right," he said, standing and rubbing his wrists where the cords had chafed them. "You never would have found that spy station if it weren't for him."

"Once he's free, my debt will be repaid in full," declared Shran. He looked at the other Andorian. "Show them," he ordered.

On a small computer screen, the four examined a graphic of the rebels' enclosure. The Andorians pointed out the positions of the eight guards inside and around the walled camp.

"You're out-numbered four-to-one. Wouldn't you like to improve those odds?" asked Tucker as the Andorians gathered their weapons.

The Andorian second looked at his commander. "They could be useful," he said.

Shran weighed the options before replying. "Give them their weapons."

Tucker and Reed were happy to have their phase pistols back. Malcolm in particular felt naked without it. He checked the gun quickly and made certain it was set to stun. While he was doing that, Shran handed Trip an unfamiliar object.

"What's this?" the engineer asked, eyeing it dubiously.

"A communications device. Your captain will be in possession of something similar by now. Contact him."

Quickly, Trip hailed the captain. He apprised him of the situation as succinctly as he could. "Until then, just sit tight."

"That won't be a problem," came Archer's response. Trip was too focused to notice the irony in the captain's voice.

It was to be a simple, quiet rescue. Get in, get the hostages, get out.

*****

They were inside the camp. They'd disabled the guards quietly and efficiently, and were making their way to the building where the hostages were being held when, without warning, all hell broke loose. The explosion took out most of one wall of the compound, scattering debris in all directions. Smoke billowed everywhere, making navigation over the unfamiliar ground nearly impossible.

"What the hell's going on?" demanded Tucker to no one in particular. Then suddenly they were in the middle of a fire fight. Rebels poured from the buildings, and Trip could just make out figures coming through the new hole in the wall. Squinting through the smoke, he saw "Sopek," he muttered angrily. But there was no time now to deal with them. They had to get to Jon and T'Pol.

The rescue team huddled low in one of the flimsy, corrugated aluminum buildings. They knew full well it would be of no protection against the particle weapons should anyone fire in their direction.

"Vulcans!" spat Shran. He glared at Tucker. "Did you know they were planning to do this?"

"You're the ones who have their comm system bugged!" countered Trip just as angrily.

In his usual pragmatic way, Reed pointed out, "Our escape plan's shot to hell."

Another, smaller explosion erupted near by. "We've got to get them out of there," said Trip. Exchanging quick glances with their partners, Trip and Shran moved out, leaving Reed and the Andorian second to cover them.

Everything was going so quickly, Reed didn't even have a moment to say, 'Be careful.' Instead, he did the only thing he could to keep the others safe as they made their way to the shack where the captain and T'Pol were being held. He quickly laid down covering fire as the pair worked their way across the camp. He was gratified when one of his shots connected and he saw a rebel go down. 

Reed allowed himself a small sigh of relief when he saw Trip and Shran reach their target and enter the building. The tactical officer continued to watch the fire fight between the Vulcans and the rebels. The analytical part of his mind found it fascinating that the "peace-loving Vulcans", as Shran had put it, seemed more intent on shooting rebels than finding the hostages. However, his more immediate concern was keeping the rebels pinned down; and he couldn't complain at the Vulcans' assistance in that particular task.

Inside the other structure, Shran went to T'Pol while Trip quickly untied Archer. "Good to see you, Captain."

"What's going on?" Archer asked.

"Vulcans crashed our rescue party," the engineer replied.

Archer looked up from his position on the dirt floor and was surprised to see a bright blue hand held out to him. He took it, allowed the Andorian to help him up. "Thanks." He turned and reached out to pull T'Pol to her feet.

Archer was even more surprised when the Andorian handed him a scanner, saying, "I believe this is yours." He took it, a quizzical look on his face. "It's the scanner she gave me from the Vulcan listening post," Shran explained shortly.

The captain handed it to T'Pol. "Seems you went to a lot of trouble to return it," he said.

"I'm here for only one reason," Shran said emphatically. He gritted his teeth almost as if it pained him to say it. "I need a good night's sleep." He strode to the door, but took one more moment to look back angrily at the captain. "My debt is repaid."

Before he could step outside there was another explosion. Trip flinched in response; it was close enough he could feel the abrupt increase in the temperature of the air. He could hear men crying out, but couldn't place the one that mattered most to him. "Malcolm!" he breathed tensely and rushed past Shran at the door. He never saw the look Archer gave him at his quiet exclamation.

Outside, the chaos was beginning to settle down. The shooting had stopped, and Trip scanned the area with his eyes, trying to spot the tactical officer in the confusion of fallen bodies and industrial debris. He released the breath he hadn't even realized he held when he saw Malcolm emerge from the building just a few meters away. He looked to be whole and uninjured as he and the Andorian joined them.

They met up with the Vulcan delegation. Weapons were drawn on both sides. Reed was at a loss, stuck to one side between the two parties as Captain Sopek and Shran argued. He looked back and forth, uncertain. It was a feeling he didn't like—not knowing which side he was on. Finally, the immediate situation took precedence in his mind and he faced the Vulcans, his phase pistol still drawn but pointed at the ground.

Reed was too far away to see the Coridan pick up his weapon and take aim. He didn't know what was happening—only that T'Pol was moving suddenly. She threw herself at Sopek, knocking him out of the line of fire. As one, the Andorians turned and fired back, killing the rebel. It was only then Malcolm discovered T'Pol had taken the shot meant for Sopek.

Archer was gathering her up, saying, "Let's get her to the ship."

"She's no longer your responsibility," Sopek said dispassionately. "We'll treat her on the _Ni'Var_."

The captain looked up at the Vulcan with an expression Malcolm recognized too well. Sopek would have been well advised not to argue further. "She's still _my_ science officer," said Archer rising with the unconscious T'Pol in his arms. He looked to Reed. "Is the pod close?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's go."

Trip quickly opened the compound's main gate. The _Enterprise_ crew hurried away to their shuttlepod, leaving the Vulcans and Andorians alone with their own fight.

It was a tense flight back to the ship. Archer took the helm, hailing _Enterprise_ as soon as they were off the planet's surface. Malcolm performed what first-aid he could on T'Pol's wound using the pod's med-kit, but the damage was severe. He sat back, shaking his head.

"She going to be okay?" Trip asked him quietly.

"I have no idea," admitted Reed. "There's nothing more we can do here. It'll be up to Doctor Phlox."

*****

Eventually, they got the word that T'Pol would be all right—and that she'd be remaining aboard _Enterprise_. The Vulcan ship had departed shortly before the announcement. Tucker wondered if the captain hadn't planned it that way. He'd have laid odds he had. 

The past several hours had been tense. He was exhausted and wired at the same time. He wanted little more than to collapse into his bunk and sleep for the next twelve hours. But Trip had one more thing to do before he, like Shran, could get a good night's sleep.

He checked the ship's internal sensors and located Lieutenant Reed. The tactical officer was in his cabin, and Trip covered the short distance there with long, determined strides. Reaching the door, he took a deep breath and stood up straight before ringing the chime.

"Come in," came the somewhat puzzled sounding reply.

Tucker opened the door. Reed looked up from the computer, surprised. He stood. "Come in, Commander," he said, gesturing Trip inside. Hesitantly, Trip entered the cabin, and the door slid shut behind him. There was an awkward pause while Reed waited for him to speak, uncertain what was going on. But in the end, it was the lieutenant who broke the silence. "Was there something I can do for you?"

"Iwanted to thank you," Trip began. "For what you did tonight."

"It's my job. You don't need to thank me."

"Not just the rescue mission." He fidgeted uncomfortably like a anxious pupil called before his headmaster. Reed didn't like the idea that he was the one making Trip so uneasy.

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked, trying to put the younger man at ease.

Trip shook his head. "No, thanks. I just need to say what I came here to say." He looked intently at Malcolm, pale blue eyes catching brighter blue. "You stood by me when I wasupset. You didn't argue. Well," he added with a wry smile, "you didn't argue a lot. And you never told me I was being an idiot—and I know I was."

Reed tried to protest, but Tucker cut him off. "Oh, come on. We could have been in real trouble down there. It was just dumb luck that the guys who jumped us just happened to be on our side—at least for the moment. My stubbornness could have put everyone in danger, but you understood why I needed to go after the captain myself. I wanted to thank you for that."

Malcolm took a deep breath, trying to take in everything Trip had just said. He really felt the commander was giving him more credit than he was due. If he'd truly believed Tucker was putting them in danger, he'd have said so. Still, he could understand where the engineer was coming from and decided his best answer in this situation was not to contradict him. Instead, he said simply, "You're welcome."

That seemed to take a weight off of Tucker's shoulders. He relaxed visibly. When he said nothing more but didn't turn to leave, Reed looked at him inquiringly. "Was there something else?" he asked.

The engineer considered him, his head cocked slightly to one side as if he was listening to something just out of range. "Yeah," he said with the hint of a smile. 

Before he realized what was happening, Malcolm found himself in Trip's embrace, their lips pressed together. Slowly, his shocked mind gave in to the desires of his body, and he returned the kiss amorously.

Both men were short of breath when they finally parted. Malcolm was beyond the power of speech and simply stood in a pleasant daze for several seconds trying to gather his wits together once more.

Trip looked at him, a slightly concerned expression on his face. "That wasokay, right?" he asked nervously.

Reed could only nod until, finally, he found the words. "Oh yes," he answered, still regaining his breath. "That was much more than 'okay'." His simple statement was rewarded with a bright, ingenuous smile that lit the engineer's face and Malcolm's heart.

"I justwanted to make sure I'd done that," Trip said artlessly, "before one of us gets put in yet another life-threatening situation."

"I'm glad you did," replied Malcolm. "Allow me to return the favor." He leaned forward, happy to initiate the contact this time. They kissed again, and Malcolm's hands slid up Trip's back, fingers lacing their way through his short, honey-colored hair. This time when they parted it was Trip whose senses were spinning with excitement and sensation.

"Uhuhhh" He babbled for a moment before Malcolm stopped him with one more warm, gentle kiss.

"We've both been in several life-threatening situations," the tactical officer said slyly. "I just wanted to make up for lost opportunities."

Finally, Trip managed to splutter out, "Good thinking."

Malcolm fought back a laugh. He found the engineer's response terribly endearing. He briefly considered inviting him to stay the night, but decided he didn't want to overwhelm him—he looked stunned enough as it was. They'd both had a rough day. Better they both sleep nowin their own bunks.

So, slowly and quietly, Reed moved to the door and opened it. "Good night, Commander," he said, the hint of an ironic smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad you stopped by."

It took a moment for the open door to register in Trip's brain. For a split-second, his heart nearly stopped as he thought he was being dismissed; he'd been found lacking and was being sent on his way. One look at Malcolm, though, and he knew that wasn't the case. He let out a relieved sigh and smiled.

He stepped to the door. "Good nightLieutenant. See you tomorrow?" he asked with more depth of meaning than the words alone suggested.

Malcolm returned his smile willingly. "Count on it."

*****

End Log 16  
_(Completed 15 Feb 01)_

Continued in Log 17


	17. Log 17

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

**Special Thanks** – I've usurped a moment from the life of a college friend for use in this Log. Don't know if she'll ever discover it, but even if she never knows I just want to say, "Thanks, Noreen." :-)

*****

**Log 17:** (Takes place between the events of the episodes _Shadows of P'Jem_ and _Shuttlepod One_.)  
_[Rating – PG]_

*****

Archer emerged from his ready room with a grim expression on his face. Hoshi didn't know what the content of the communication he'd just received was, but he obviously wasn't happy about it.

"Hoshi," he said, approaching her station, "open up a line throughout the ship."

"Yes, sir." She opened the comm and gave him a small, tense "go ahead" nod.

He took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself for something unpleasant or even painful. "All hands, attention. This is Captain Archer."

Around the ship, 80 humans, one Vulcan, and one Denobulan stopped what they were doing to listen. Porthos yawned and rolled over in his sleep.

"I've just received some news from Earth that may be of import to many of you. I know it is to me."

Hoshi and Travis exchanged worried glances.

"The final score of the first game of the 2151 World Series was the Vancouver Orcas—four and the San Francisco Giantsthree. Archer out." He gave Ensign Sato a sharp nod, and she closed the comm.

Around the ship, responses were varied. Four of the six San Francisco natives (aside from the captain) made disgruntled noises and returned to their work. Three White Sox fans voiced equally disappointed mutterings as their World Series hopes had been dashed when Chicago was swept by the Orcas in the first round of play-offs; the news didn't jibe with their hopes of revenge. In sickbay, the Vulcan and Denobulan exchanged looks, one indifferent, one bemused. Lieutenant Reed shook his head, chuckled quietly, and returned his attention to the simulation he was running in the Armory.

There were others, however, who were celebrating.

"Woo-hoo!" exclaimed Cormack jubilantly. She did a modified "happy dance" where she was seated on the floor of Shuttlepod One. "I do so love good news from home!"

"Ma'am?" asked Griffith.

"Not much for baseball, eh, Ewan?"

"Not a lot of baseball in Wales, ma'am," the tall crewman replied stoically.

"I suppose not. Shame. Best game in the world. Hand me that spanner?" He handed her the tool in question, and she crawled back under the pod's control board. "This is totally random, and you can tell me it's none of my business, but aren't you kind of tall for a Welshman?"

"My mother is Swedish," Griffith said as if that explained it all.

"Ah," replied Cormack, for whom it did.

In Engineering, Lawless's disappointed sigh was overshadowed by Trip's whoop of glee. "Yeah!" he exclaimed with abrupt and brief applause that garnered him startled looks from half a dozen of his engineers.

"You're an Orcas fan?" Mae asked him, surprised.

"Nope. I'm a Kansas City fan. But they didn't even make the play-offs this year. When you can't root for your team, you root for your league," he declared. Then added quietly, "Besides, the Captain's a huge Giants fan. It's more fun this way."

"I had no idea you could be so" She searched for the right word to describe him that wouldn't sound insubordinate.

Trip supplied one for her. "Petty?"

"No!"

Tucker laughed. "It's okay. I know what you mean. The Captain's an old friend of mine. Don't you enjoy teasing your friends once in a while?"

Lawless's thoughts shifted to the RPG she and Cutler were planning. She grinned. "Once in a while," she admitted.

"There's something behind that comment," said Trip, eyeing her suspiciously. "Just what are you up to?"

"Me?" She looked at him with false innocence.

"You."

"Nothing that'll disrupt Engineering, if that's your concern, sir," she assured him quickly, guessing at what he might be driving at.

"Who said anything about that? I'm just asking a simple question." His statement was laced with as much feigned indifference as the naturally ingenuous chief engineer could manage.

The ensign considered for a brief second before making her decision. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Did you know Ensign Cormack used to play in a band?"

Trip instinctively followed her vocal lead. "No. Why?"

"You wanted to know what I was up to. Let's just say it involves pink hair and an RPG." She smiled knowingly.

There was a short pause while Tucker considered this new information. "On second thought," he said, "I don't think I want to know."

*****

When the captain approached her station this time, Hoshi was far less concerned for two reasons. First, she had a good idea what was coming. Second, Archer was smiling. At his request, she opened up a ship-wide comm.

"Attention, baseball fans," he began. "Last night's final score in game two of the 2151 World Series was Vancouver—five, San Francisco—seven. Archer out."

Sato closed the comm and looked at him, smiling. "You seem to be in good mood today, Captain, if I may say so."

"That's because life is good, Ensign," he replied with a grin. He moved to his chair and sat, asking Travis at the helm, "Mr. Mayweather, are we on schedule to launch Echo Three tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir," the young man said. "We should be at the projected coordinates at 1115 hours."

"Good. Subspace reception is getting choppy. I'm sure everyone will be glad to have clear communications with home again."

Travis and Hoshi simply exchanged subtle and amused looks. Only T'Pol seemed to see a need to confirm suspicions. "Captain, does your desire for a better connection have anything to do with these baseball scores you insist on sharing?" She approached the word 'baseball' as though she'd never spoken it before. It occurred to Ensign Sato it was likely she hadn't.

"As a matter of fact, it would," replied Archer pleasantly, trying to hide a smile. He was sure she disapproved of his use of the ship-wide comm to share such "trivial" information and was curious to see if she would comment further. He found himself almost disappointed when she simply nodded and returned to her scans.

Down in the Armory, Reed looked sidelong at Cormack and muttered, "Do you expect he's going to do that for every game?"

"I expect so," she confirmed equally quietly. "Why do you ask?"

"I find it a bitdisruptive."

"Today I have to agree."

He looked at her more directly. "Why today, particularly?" he wanted to know.

"Because today my team lost."

"Of course." He nodded. Honestly, he hadn't even noticed the score. The announcement had been addressed to "baseball fans." That wasn't him, so he'd done his best to tune out what was being said.

Unaware of his indifference, Cormack was still talking. "Hopefully, when we get the new subspace amplifier running tomorrow, I'll be the recipient of some video mail from my sister-in-law explaining just how we managed to lose to the Giants yesterday. Still," she continued in an attempt to remain positive, "next three games are in Vancouver. That'll be good for my boys. Have the home crowd behind them."

She glanced over at the lieutenant and noticed his expression. "Oh, don't tell me you don't get just as wrapped up in your rugby matches," she accused lightly.

"Of course!" he agreed quickly. "But the scores wouldn't be announced over a ship's comm Too many fist fights would break out."

"Are you—?" She stopped, eyeing him. "You're serious."

"Absolutely." Then he added with the smallest hint of mirth, "It's one of the few ways you North Americans are more civilized than we Europeans."

Cormack was about to protest when she spotted the tiny smirk at the corner of his lips. "Oh. Oh, you almost had me," she said, laughing.

He chuckled, pleased. "Good."

In Main Engineering, Trip was mildly annoyed with Archer's announcement for his own reasons. He was supposed to be having dinner with the Captain and Dr. Phlox that evening. He found himself in the rare position of wishing T'Pol would be there. The conversation was less likely to turn to the topic of baseball with the Vulcan present. He couldn't count on that with Phlox. He didn't know if the Denobulan had any views on the sport one way or another, but he was willing to bet his natural curiosity would extend to this—one of the most historical of human pastimes.

Immediately, he regretted the mild bit of gloating he'd done over breakfast that morning. "Should've known better," he told himself softly, shaking his head.

Dillard noticed his movement and asked, "Is something wrong, Commander?"

"You a baseball fan, Dillard?"

"Yes, sir! Go Giants!" he answered enthusiastically.

Tucker briefly considered responding, but decided against it.

*****

Cormack was surprised and somewhat concerned when she got the order to report to the captain's ready room. She gave a quick look to Lieutenant Reed who returned it with an equally quick nod of okay.

"I'll be right there, sir," she replied into the comm. When she heard the connection severed from the other end, she looked again at her C.O. "You don't happen to know what this is about, do you, Lieutenant?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. I have no idea."

She gave a nervous sigh. "Well, if you don't know, then I'm probably not in trouble." She sounded unconvincing even to herself.

"Don't worry." Reed said with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure it's nothing like that. But I'd hurry up, if I were you. You don't want him wondering what's taking you so long."

"Right," Stephanie said. She hurried off to meet her uncertain fate.

*****

"Come in," called Archer at the sound of the door chime. The ready room door slid open revealing a nervous-looking Ensign Cormack. "Ah, Ensign. Come in."

She stepped into the room, trying not to appear as if she wanted to run the other way. She'd never been called to the captain's office before, had no idea why she was there now, or what to expect. Curiosity was warring with nerves, but she restrained herself from looking around. Instead, she fell back on the safe familiarity of her Starfleet training; she stood at attention in the center of the room and waited for the hammer to fall.

Archer noticed her unease and smiled pleasantly. "At ease, Ensign. I didn't call you here to reprimand you." Stephanie relaxed only minutely at this news. The captain rose from behind his desk and gestured to the soft, comfortable chairs in the corner. "Have a seat?"

Uncertainly, Cormack glanced behind her. She moved cautiously to one of the chairs and sat stiffly on its edge.

"I understand you have family in broadcasting," Archer said, taking the chair opposite her.

Taken completely by surprise, Cormack could only say, "Yes, sir." She couldn't begin to imagine how he'd gotten this information, or why it was of such import that he'd call her here in the middle of her duty shift.

"You're from Vancouver, Canada aren't you?"

Again, she simply said, "Yes, sir."

"Tell me, Ensign. Are you a sports fan?"

Finally, realization dawned on her. "Yes, sir!" she said emphatically. "Go Orcas!"

Archer gave her a small smile. "Yes. Well, we all have our own opinions on that topic."

Stephanie clamped down on her tongue and her enthusiasm all at once. She fell back on an old standard. "Yes, sir."

"Relax. All's fair in love and warand the World Series. And that brings me back to the reason I wanted to see you."

Archer filled her in on his plan quickly and succinctly. Stephanie found herself smiling broadly as what he outlined became clear to her.

"It'd be easier if I could talk to Gemma directly, sir," she said a little hesitantly. It wasn't regular for crewmembers to communicate directly with home. There was only so much comm time and bandwidth, especially at such a distance—never mind concerns about security. Communications needed to filter through standard channels.

"I understand," the Captain assured her. "I'll make the arrangements myself with Starfleet. We're launching Echo Three tomorrow. I intend to contact Admiral Forrest as soon as Ensign Sato and her team finish up their tests on the new amplifier. Until we get the go ahead, though, I need you to keep this under your hat."

"Yes, sir! No one will hear a word from me," she assured him.

"Good." He rose and Cormack quickly matched him. "Dismissed, Ensign."

Smiling, she nodded and left the ready room.

Arriving back in the Armory, she quickly descended the steps to the lower level and returned to her post. Lieutenant Reed glanced up at her entry. "Everything all right?" he asked simply.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"Good. I need to run some tests on the work you and Griffith did on Shuttlepod One. You can give me a hand."

*****

"Captain, we're approaching the coordinates for the launch," said Ensign Mayweather from the helm.

"Slow to impulse. Bring us in and hold position," replied Archer. He walked over to the tactical station. "Mr. Reed, is the amplifier ready for deployment?"

Reed ran one more (unnecessary) check of the relevant systems before answering. "Yes, sir. All systems are showing green."

Archer glanced back to the helmsman. "Travis?"

"We're in position, sir," the young man replied as he brought the ship to a halt.

"Excellent. Whenever you're ready, Malcolm," he added to the Tactical Officer. 

Reed gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement, triple-checked the systems, and launched the newest subspace amplifier. There was a moment of silence as the satellite deployed, then Malcolm smiled in satisfaction. "Another clean launch, sir."

"The amplifier has made contact with Echo Two," said T'Pol from the science station across the bridge.

Archer gave her a nod of thanks before looking to Ensign Sato. "How long will it take for you to run your tests?"

"About 45 minutes, sir," Hoshi answered.

"I'll be in my ready room. Let me know as soon as you're done."

"Yes, sir."

He stepped onto the upper level and paused only long enough to say, "You have the bridge, Sub-commander," before disappearing behind the ready room door.

*****

Several hours later, the call went out, "Archer to Ensign Cormack. Report to my ready room."

Stephanie clicked open the nearest comm and said, "On my way, sir." She headed quickly out of the Armory. When she exited the lift onto the Bridge, she garnered curious glances from Sato, Mayweather, and Lieutenant Reed. T'Pol merely noted her arrival and dismissed it.

Before the ensign quite reached the ready room door, Reed gave her a concerned look. "Ensign?" he asked quietly. It was the second time in as many days she had been called in by the captain. He was uncertain what to make of it.

Reading his subtle expression correctly, Cormack said just loud enough for him to hear, "No worries, sir." She gave him a quick smile and rang the chime.

"Come in," called Archer.

Cormack entered the small office more confidently this time. "You wanted to see me, Captain?" she said as the door slid shut behind her.

Back out on the bridge, the human members of the crew had their own speculations. However, all kept their thoughts to themselves. Some exchange of ideas might have gone on had not T'Pol been present. Her Vulcan stoicism tended to make for a quiet shift. Hoshi had once likened it to the conditioned response of entering a library—the hush was almost tangible.

At that moment, T'Pol rose. She looked over and made eye contact with Reed. "I have business in astrometrics," she announced. "Mr. Reed, you have the bridge." She turned and made her exit.

Hoshi and Travis immediately exchanged looks, their eyes carrying on a quick argument. Travis lost.

The helmsman gave a furtive glance in Reed's direction before asking with feigned nonchalance, "So, Lieutenant, any idea what's going on?"

Malcolm, who knew exactly what Travis was asking, decided not to play along. "Going on, Ensign?" he replied with a better attempt at false casualness. In truth, he had no more idea what was happening between Captain Archer and Ensign Cormack than Mayweather had, but he didn't care to let on. 

"Yes, sir."

"In what regard?"

Travis shot another quick look at Hoshi in the hopes of some assistance. All he got was an encouraging "go on" nod. His shoulders slumped a little in frustration, but he tried again. "Ensign Cormack's notin trouble or anything, is she?"

"Why would you think that?" asked Reed. He put on his best "tough boss" look. "Is there some reason she should be?"

"No! No. Not at all!" the helmsman insisted hastily. "I just meant—well, she's kind of a—friend, so I'm just wondering" He tried once again to enlist the aid of the comm officer, but Sato kept her eyes trained on her instruments. Travis fought back an annoyed sigh at the desertion. "Never mind, sir," he said, feeling discouraged and hoping it didn't come through in his voice.

At the tactical station, Reed simply looked at him with an inscrutable expression. Inside, however, he was laughing. _Sometimes it's just too easy,_ he thought.

*****

The Captain smiled as he approached Sato. "Hoshi," he said cheerily, "give me a ship-wide comm."

"Yes, sir," answered Sato as she complied with his request.

"All hands, this is the Captain. There's been a change in this evening's entertainment. Instead of showing 'Casablanca', your movie tonight will beWorld Series game number three." He knew it was impossible, but Archer would have sworn he could hear cheering. "I look forward to seeing you there. Archer out."

In the Armory, Reed glanced sideways at Cormack. "So that's what that was all about."

"Yep," she said happily. "I'm really glad Gemma could pull this off. It almost makes up for that damned documentary."

"The ups and downs of having family in broadcasting."

"You said it."

*****

The baseball fans found themselves unconsciously dividing as they entered the Rec. Center. Somehow, all the American League fans sat along the port side by the windows, while the National League supporters were on the starboard side closer to the door.

"Mind if I join you?" Trip said, looking down at the surprised Cormack.

"No, sir." She shifted over a little to make room for him on the bench. "I didn't know you were a baseball fan, Commander."

"Fanatic is more like it," he replied with a broad grin. "Popcorn?" He offered the tub to her, but Stephanie shook her head.

"No, thanks."

"I wonder how the Captain managed to finagle this arrangement," he mused, tossing up a piece of popcorn and catching it in his mouth.

"Dunno." She took a drink of her soda to hide her smile. The Captain hadn't said anything about keeping her part in this a secret; she'd chosen to do that on her own. Of those on board, only she and Archer really knew just how this little coup had been pulled off. It certainly helped that Admiral Forrest was a baseball fan himself. Otherwise, Cormack doubted even Captain Archer could have gotten him to agree to use Starfleet channels to broadcast what remained of the World Series. But, as luck would have it, he was all for it. All it took after that was a short conversation with Gemma at the CBC, and they were in business.

_Yeah,_ thought Stephanie generously, _I think I'll forgive her for that documentary But only if no one else on _Enterprise_ sees it._ Once the initial shock of viewing it had passed, she'd realized that particular eventuality was unlikely and she'd relaxed a little. No one knew about Daughters of Lear except Malcolm, and she knew he'd never breathe a word. She was feeling secure.

*****

"I only have a minute," said Lawless. "The game's about to start. What did you want?" She stood in the open doorway, waiting impatiently.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't know you were a fan," said Liz Cutler apologetically. "Never mind. It can wait."

"You're sure?"

"Sure. It was just a question about the RPG I'm setting up for us."

Mae's eyes lit up. She appeared suddenly torn. "Really?"

"Yeah, but it'll wait," Liz assured her once again. "Go. Have fun at the game."

"If it were any other series"

"I get it. I live with the biggest Orcas fan this side of the galaxy. Go. I'll talk to you about it tomorrow."

"Cool. See you later." Lawless was around the corner and half-way down the corridor before she'd finished speaking.

Cutler chuckled to herself and shut the cabin door. She knew she had between two and three hours of uninterrupted time to work on the game she and Lawless were planning, and she intended to use it. _Should be long enough to come up with the planetary specs at least,_ she thought, sitting on her bunk and picking up the datapad she'd dedicated to the task.

*****

Despite being outnumber nearly two-to-one, the AL side of the Rec. Center was making enough noise to easily drown out their competitors. It had been a nail-biting three hours, but it was worth every second and every torn cuticle as far as Cormack was concerned. Ishikawa's flying save over the left field wall in the top of the ninth had sealed the Giants' fate. The NL champs went down six to four, and the Orcas were up two games to one.

"Whoo!" exclaimed Commander Tucker. "Now _that's_ what I call a good game." He stood, stretching muscles stiffened by the hours spent on the hard bench. Around him, people were making their way to the door, some slowly and unhappily, others with undisguised glee.

"Don't get too comfortable, Commander," said the Captain from the other end of the row. "We'll tie it up again tomorrow."

Cormack was feeling well pleased at the game's outcome and let her good spirits get ahead of her good sense. She glanced around Tucker to Archer. "Care to make a friendly wager, sir?" she asked with a daring smirk.

Archer raised an eyebrow at her. "Ensign?" he asked.

She realized she'd stepped a bit out of line and he was giving her this opportunity to step back again. She was about to do so when Trip spoke up. "Yeah. Why not." He glanced down at Cormack who still sat on the bench, gave her a wink out of Archer's line of sight. He turned back to face his old friend. "What do you say, Captain? Just a friendly wager, like the lady said."

Cormack had to choke back a laugh at being called a lady. She figured Tucker was just using the term for effect, but it still cracked her up. At the inquiring look she got from both men, she quickly cleared her throat and gestured to her soda cup. "Went down the wrong tube," she said roughly. Fortunately, neither man realized the cup was empty.

"So?" Trip continued, eyeing the captain. "What do you say?"

Archer considered the pair of them for several moments. "What are the stakes?"

"A moment to discuss this with my business partner?" Tucker said formally as Cormack smothered another ringing laugh with a brief coughing fit. "You okay?" She nodded, not able to speak. Tucker resumed his seat next to her. "Good. I got an idea for the stakes." He quickly explained what he was thinking, and Cormack nodded.

"Sounds good to me," she replied.

Trip rose again and faced Archer. Cormack stood next to him. "Here's the deal. Orcas win the series, Cormack and I both get to sleep in an extra two hours a day for the next week."

"And when the Giants win?" asked Archer serenely.

Trip's eyes narrowed at his choice of words. "_If_ the Giants win," he corrected, "Cormack and I'll play steward for every one of your meals for a week."

Jon smiled. These were terms he could live with. "It's a deal." He shook hands with each of the younger officers in turn. "I'll be looking forward to the outcome."

"So will I," agreed Trip.

*****

Two games later, Archer was feeling a little less confident. It wasn't over by a long shot, but the Giants were down three games to two. They had to win both of the remaining games to take the series. Fortunately, they were going back to San Francisco for those games, but that was far from a guaranteed win. From the bits and pieces he'd been able to learn over the course of the season, the Vancouver Orcas actually had a better record on the road than at home.

The door to the small private dining room opened and Trip entered. "Mornin', Captain," the engineer said with a smile. He took his usual seat at the table.

"Good morning," replied Archer. "Quite a game last night." The Giants had pulled it out in the eighth for their second win.

"Sure was," Tucker agreed. "It was almost over right there." His tone implied that it was sheerest dumb luck that had kept his friend's team from losing their fourth game.

"We'll get you tomorrow. We're on home grass again."

The morning steward entered then, delivering scrambled eggs and toast to the officers. Trip poured himself a glass of orange juice. "Home grass won't do you much good," he said, and took a sip. "Your boys are facing Costello tomorrow. He's 18-4 for the season and hasn't lost a playoff game this year."

"But he's in San Francisco. One of those four regular season losses was there," the Captain countered as he lightly salted and peppered his eggs. Then a thought suddenly struck him. "You're not a Vancouver fan. Where did you learn all that about their pitcher?"

"KC plays them occasionally, you know." Tucker didn't want to let on where he'd gotten his information. Better to just look as though he was baseball omniscient. Too bad Archer figured it out on his own.

"Ensign Cormack," he said.

"Beg your pardon?"

"I just figured out where you got your stats—your co-conspirator."

Trip chuckled. "Yeah, well," he admitted, "she's pretty resourceful."

"That's certainly true."

On the other side of the wall behind Trip, the object of their conversation was getting her usual morning beverage from the mess hall drinks dispenser. She took a sip and sighed.

"That's something of a religious ritual for you, isn't it?"

Cormack glanced up at a smiling Ensign Mayweather. "There are worse things to revere than coffee," she replied, returning his smile.

"Join me for breakfast?"

"Sure."

The pair worked their way along the line of breakfast options. Travis selected a plate of eggs benedict and toast while Stephanie spotted lemon poppy seed muffins and happily claimed two.

"That's not much of a breakfast," the helmsman said as they found a table and sat.

"More than usual," replied Stephanie, breaking off the bottom of a muffin and popping a bite into her mouth.

"I meant the content. My mom was a stickler for a balanced breakfast. I couldn't break the habit now if I wanted to." As if to emphasize his point, he picked up his knife and fork and started enthusiastically on his eggs.

"Not me. Food and mornings don't really go together in my world."

Travis washed down a bite with a swallow of cranberry juice. "So," he said, "I hear you're joining us for our new RPG."

Cormack took another sip of her latté before answering. "Yeah. I've never gamed before though. Any suggestions or warnings I should have before we start?"

"Not really. Just pay close attention and be ready to take notes."

"Sounds like Starfleet training all over again."

Travis chuckled. "Sure. If your instructors are trying to hide things from you and there's the possibility of being attacked or even killed at any moment."

"Oo. Fun."

Mayweather laughed again. "It is. Trust me. Last time, we had to collect the pieces of a Universal Translator. Only the catch was they were scattered throughout a Martian city."

"So?"

"So the Martians had sharp teeth and liked to attack in large groups. And there were flying lizards, too."

Stephanie considered for a moment. "Actually, that sounds cool," she announced at last.

"Just don't get too attached to your character. Anderson was on his third before we'd even gotten the first piece of the UT."

"Ouch."

Lawless approached them at that moment. "Hey."

"Hey!" replied Cormack cheerfully. "Have a seat."

"Thanks." She put her mug and cereal bowl on the table and sat.

"So, how 'bout those Giants?" Stephanie grinned broadly and roguishly.

Mae glared at her friend over her cereal. "Do you _want_ to start a riot this early in the morning?"

"I'm just messing with you."

"We'll see who's messing with whom after this weekend."

"Are you talking about the World Series?" Travis asked.

Both women looked at him and replied in unison, "Duh!" At his startled expression, they had to laugh.

"Sorry," said Stephanie. "When you're fans like us, it kind of takes over your world for the few days it takes to play."

"How much longer is it? I know that's why we're waiting to start the RPG."

"Technically, two more games. Hopefully, just one." This earned Cormack another glare from Lawless. "Don't look at me like that. I've got a bet riding on this series as well as civic pride."

"Bet? With who?" the engineer wanted to know.

"It doesn't matter. The point is, you want your team to win just as badly as I want mine to." She hadn't meant to let slip the bet she and Commander Tucker had made with the Captain. She couldn't say exactly why, but she felt it was best if the arrangement were kept just between the three of them. _There must be something in Starfleet regs that says wagers between crewmembers are a big 'no',_ she thought. _How much worse when it involves the Captain and the Chief Engineerand a lowly armory ensign?_

*****

The day seemed to drag to every baseball fan on board. With no game to look forward to that evening there was no anticipatory spark to make time pass faster. Reed noticed the lack of this spark in Cormack, but didn't immediately make the connection to its cause. "Everything all right, Ensign?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she replied, surprised. "Why?"

"You've been unusually quiet all day. Pass me that sonic screwdriver, would you?"

"Have I?" said Cormack, handing him the tool.

"Thanks." He took it and continued working on the shuttlepod's systems. "And yes, you have."

"Sorry."

Reed chuckled. "Don't apologize, please. It's just not like you, and I wondered if there was something wrong."

"No, sir. I think maybe my mind is sort ofelsewhere today."

Reed passed the screwdriver back to her. "I think that's got it," he said. He climbed out from under the control panel of Shuttlepod One where he'd been making further adjustments to the small vessel's targeting scanners. "Ready to try another simulation?"

"Any time," Cormack replied. The two stood side by side at the pod's controls. Reed double-checked that the systems were indeed running in simulation mode before loading in the program. They waited expectantly as the simulation ran.

"Damn," Reed swore softly. "It's off by .03 percent. I'm coming to the reluctant conclusion that these so called 'enhancements' are going to be more trouble than they're worth."

"Are you sure it's .03? We had it down to .022 before."

"One step forward, two steps back," said the lieutenant with a frustrated sigh. He hit several buttons, trying to determine the culprit this time. "All right. It looks like the targeting axis shifted when we tied in the new plasma trigger. Try rotating the axis .6 microns and see where that gets us."

Cormack keyed in the command, waited the brief moment while the axis realigned. "Ready."

Reed ran the simulation again. "Better," he said when the results came in. "Rotate it another .15 microns."

Stephanie was just about to comply when they both felt a shift in _Enterprise_'s speed. "Feels like we've dropped out of warp," she said.

The lieutenant's hands danced lightly over the shuttlepod's controls, quickly bringing them into live mode and tying them into the ship's computer. "Looks like we've found a new F-class star system."

"Really?" She leaned in over the screen. "Any sign of a Minshara-class planet?"

"I don't know. But I assume there's something that's piqued the Captain's curiosity or we wouldn't have stopped to take a look." He disengaged the systems, returned them to simulation mode. "Have you rotated the targeting axis?"

Cormack rapidly input the command. "I have now."

"Third time's the charm, right, Ensign?" said Reed with a touch of irony.

"If my calculations are right, this is more like the thirteenth timetoday," Cormack replied just as wryly.

He acknowledged the remark with a look, and ran the simulation. "This is ridiculous," he snarled at the result. "Now the new trigger's gone off line. Ah well. 'Once more unto the breach'." He picked up a handheld scanner and crawled back under the control panel, laying flat on his back and scanning the systems above him.

"'On, on, you noblest English'," replied Cormack, kneeling next to him.

Malcolm glanced over at her and chuckled. "Clearly you did something in college besides play in a band."

"Sure. I tended bar," the ensign quipped. "Where do you think I got my copy of Shakespeare's Complete Works? A guy gave it to me as a tip." Reed glanced away from his scans long enough to give her a doubtful look. "He did! He said he had two."

"I'm still not certain if you're joking," the lieutenant admitted.

"Frighteningly enough, I'm not."

They were interrupted by the familiar chirp of the communicator followed by the page, "Tucker to Lieutenant Reed."

Reed inched out from under the board and sat up. "Toss me the communicator?" Cormack reached back across the pod and picked up the item, lobbing it gently to the waiting Reed. He caught it and opened it. "Go ahead."

"Malcolm, I was wondering if we could reschedule dinner," said Trip. "Would 2030 hours work for you?"

"I don't see why not."

"Great! I want to take advantage of the time we have out of warp to work on the port intercooler."

"Any word how long we'll be at impulse?" Reed wanted to know.

"Haven't heard," answered the engineer. "Maybe a couple of days if this system turns out to have anything interesting in it."

"Understood. See you at 2030."

"Tucker out."

Reed flipped the communicator shut, handed it back to Cormack who smiled. "Dinner, eh? You two seem to be getting on well."

Malcolm couldn't help but smile in response. "You could certainly say that." He laid back again and resumed his scans.

When it became apparent he wasn't going to offer anything more, Stephanie prompted, "And?"

"And?" he echoed. "And what?"

"That's what I'm asking."

"I'm not discussing this on duty, _Ensign_." Cormack didn't bother to try to hide her disappointment. Reed noticed her expression and had to take the opportunity to tease. "Besides, I've never been one to kiss and tell."

"Kiss? Did you just say kiss?" Stephanie asked eagerly.

"I've found where the plasma trigger link has failed. It needs to be repolarized." He sat up enough to find the tool he needed and returned to his supine position.

"You said kiss," repeated Cormack, refusing to give up. "You don't just toss me a bone like that and expect me not to grab it."

Malcolm realized she was right. He had no one but himself to blame. _Amazing the times I choose to shoot my mouth off,_ he thought sardonically. _My mother always said my sense of humor would get me into trouble one day. Who'd have thought it would be today?_

Cormack was still staring at him. She was sitting on her knees, hands on her hips, waiting. "Well?"

He relented. "I'll tell you about it when we're off duty," he promised.

"We're already on overtime," remarked the naturally impatient ensign.

"_Later_," he said emphatically.

"That's a rotten thing to say to an instant gratification junky like me," she replied, her tone far less petulant than her words suggested.

"You're just annoyed because you don't have your precious World Series to watch today," teased Reed in return. "You're taking it out on me."

Stephanie thought for a moment before answering. "You know, there may be something to that. What can I say? I'm living vicariously."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of you vicariously living my love life."

"Don't take it personally. I'm also enjoying Liz's."

Reed laughed. "I think you need a new hobby."

"Yeah, but baseball season's over in two days."

"_Another_ hobby."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I'm joining Liz's role-playing group?"

"That would depend on the type of role-playing you're talking about."

"Ha, ha. It's a _game_. I don't know a lot about it, but Travis said they had fun with the last one, so I'm joining them for the new one."

"Good."

This time it was Cormack's turn to laugh. "Don't think that's getting you off the hook. We don't start for another few days. I have plenty of time to hear all about this kiss you mentioned."

"Splendid." His sarcasm was softened by a hint of friendly ribbing.

"Hey," replied Cormack, equally playful, "what are friends for?"

*****

The champagne was chilled. It was just a question of who would be drinking it. With the series tied at three games apiece, it was anybody's guess how it would end.

"I can't believe we lost yesterday," snarled Cormack for the nth time. Costello hadn't made it out of the third inning, and the Orcas had gone through two long relievers and two closers before they'd finally lost by a score of four to one.

"Relax, Ensign," said Tucker from his seat beside her. "It won't happen again."

"It better not. I'm really counting on being able to sleep in for the next week."

"So am I."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if there was more to his comment than met the ear. Even with the limited information she'd wrested from Malcolm, she still couldn't venture to guess if Trip was planning on having company on those lazy mornings. _But how's he going to get around Malcolm's duty shift?_ she wondered. Then she shook her head slightly. _He's right. I _do_ need a new hobby._

"What?" asked Trip.

"Huh?"

"You're shaking your head."

"Oh, nothing. My mind was justwandering." _Where it doesn't belong,_ she added to herself.

"So is this for professional fans only, or can a novice join in?"

Tucker and Cormack both looked up, started by the unexpected arrival of Lieutenant Reed. Trip was both surprised and delighted at his appearance. He grinned and was rewarded with Malcolm's own subtle smile.

"Baseball welcomes all comers," said Stephanie, noting the exchange. "Have a seat." She slid over closer to the bulkhead to make more room on the bench. Trip followed suit.

Reed sat down beside Trip, saying, "I'm not going to drive you mad if I ask what the hell's going on all the time, am I?"

The engineer exchanged a look with the ensign before replying. "Maybe you better sit in the middle. That way you can drive each of us only half crazy," he said lightly. He stood, gestured for Malcolm to slide over then sat once more.

Sandwiched between the two people he knew best on board, Malcolm felt a little less out of place. He'd never watched a baseball game before, and why he'd decided to do so tonight of all nights eluded him. He put it down to the constant chatter he'd been forced to endure over the past ten days. It was time to see just what the fuss was all about. _And when better,_ he'd rationalized, _than the last game of the World Series?_ It also helped that it gave him an excuse to spend some social time with Trip.

When it came down to it, he didn't ask all that many questions. Much of what was going on was self-explanatory: get to a base, you're safe; get all the way around, you score a point. He found the research he'd done on the All-Star game for Stephanie helped his comprehension. At the very least, he knew which team to root for.

He was unprepared for the Seventh Inning Stretch, however. It made sense when everyone stood, but when they all started singing, he was a bit taken aback. Cormack nudged him, pointing to the screen where the lyrics were being displayed in time with the ballpark organ music. Trip glanced at him and just grinned, singing loudly and unexpectedly well. With the voice of Captain Archer added into the mix, Reed found the short song surprisingly tuneful. Still, he was relieved when it was over.

When the song ended, they all sat again and play resumed. From Reed's point of view, little seemed to have gone on for the first six and a half innings. The magnitude of the Orcas' pitcher holding the Giants to a no-hitter was lost on him. Now, the fellow bearing the name "Mayer" and the number "42" on the back of his jersey was finished warming up and the game was under way once more.

The score was 1-0 and that one run had come on what the announcer had called a "bloop single" in the fifth. It had allowed the Orcas' second baseman MacElroy, who'd already been sacrificed to second and then stolen third, to race to the plate. He'd beaten out the throw home by a bare split-second and had sent nearly half the room rocketing to their feet in exultation. Even Reed had found himself caught up in the excitement of the moment. Still, he remained of the opinion that baseball was 90% waiting and 10% action.

Tension was high in the Rec. Center as the first batter came up to the plate for the bottom of the seventh. It was the shortest half-inning yet, as best Malcolm could recall. "Three up, three down," as the announcer said. The AL fans all heaved a sigh of relief while the NL fans snarled at being shut out for yet another inning.

"Gettin' worried, Captain?" Trip called across the room to his C.O. with a sly grin.

"Just remember. Serve right, clear left," Archer quipped back.

Trip laughed hard enough to draw curious looks from more than a few people. But then the Giants' reliever was done with his warm-up tosses and the moment passed.

"What was that about?" Reed asked him quietly.

"Just a little wager we have going," answered the engineer, his eyes once more glued to the screen. "Tell ya later," he added as the Orcas' hitter took a huge swing and missed the ball completely.

"He's getting over-excited," muttered Cormack. "Come on, Joey. Relax," she continued as if he could actually hear her sage advice.

"Damn!" swore Trip at the next swing. Reed hadn't really seen what happened, but clearly the young man was out as he trudged, frustrated and disappointed, back to the dugout. The slow-motion repeats of the play clarified the story: foul tip into the catcher's glove. Tucker shook his head.

"Next to last inning, Commander," said Cormack reassuringly. "We just have to hang on."

"I know, but a run or two cushion wouldn't hurt my feelings." 

Malcolm was finding little exchanges like these almost more interesting than the actual play. The pair continued to converse quietly, neither moving their eyes from the screen.

"Mine either, but Danny's pitched two no-hitters in his career. He can do it again."

"Sure, but has anyone ever pitched a no-hitter in the World Series?"

"Yeah. Once."

"Really?" Trip was surprised enough he actually took a split second to glance over at Stephanie. "When?"

"Nearly two centuries ago."

Suddenly, everyone was on their feet and shouting. The batter had nailed the pitch, and it was flying far and fast. Cries of "Go, go, go!" were overlapped by equally emphatic shouts of "Come on! Get under it! Get it!" Then the starboard side of the room erupted in cheers while the port side sat heavily.

"Damn. Damn, damn, damn," spat Stephanie. "I really thought that was going out."

"It would have if Kuehn weren't so damn good at his job," said Trip. The Giants' center fielder had a reputation for stealing home runs. It was a reputation well-earned. This time, he'd practically climbed the center field wall to snag the rapidly departing ball from the air. They watched the re-play three or four times before the network cameras turned back to the live action.

The third batter hit a double to keep the Orcas alive a little longer, but the next was out on a routine single. Players jogged across the field, exchanging positions with their opponents. Stoically, Mayer trotted once again out to the mound.

"I can't believe their leaving him in," Tucker said.

"Why not?" argued Cormack. "He's held a no-hitter through seven innings, and his pitch count is what? Seventy-two? Seventy-five? He can handle it. I've seen Mayer throw 120 and still complain when the manager pulled him."

"That doesn't mean he can do it here."

"And would _you_ want to be the one to tell him he can't finish the game when there's a good chance he could make history?"

One out and two walks later, Cormack wasn't so sure. She was all but praying for a double-play. A glance around showed that others actually were. She held her breath as Mayer threw his next pitch. It cracked off the bat and bounced off the infield grass right into the waiting glove of rookie shortstop Joey Stephano. He made the quick transfer and tossed it to Mac for one. The second baseman fired a rocket over to Olshevsky at first for the final out of the eighth. Again, cheers burst forth from _Enterprise_'s AL fans.

Cormack let out a tremendous sigh of relief. "I think I'm gonna die if we don't get another run in the ninth," she declared. "At least we're back at the top of the line-up."

"Don't look now, but the Giants are bringing in the Big Gun," said Tucker with a touch of fatalism in his voice. They watched as the tall right-hander the San Francisco press had dubbed "The Big Gun" strode purposefully in from the bullpen.

Archer happened to catch the comment. "Getting worried, Commander?" he said with a smile.

Trip put on his most confident expression. "Nope. He might be able to shut us down, but your boys still have to score."

"Do you really think your man can throw a no-hitter in these circumstance?" the Captain continued. "It's only happened once before, and that was a _long_ time ago."

"Then I'd say it's about time for it to happen again. Wouldn't you, Ensign?" Tucker looked across Reed to Cormack.

"Yes, sir. After all, a coin can't always land face down."

Three outs later, Stephanie was hiding behind her hands. The San Francisco closer had, indeed, shut down the Orcas in order. "I'm gonna die, I know it," the ensign was saying. "I'm absolutely not going to live through this."

Malcolm gave her a somewhat worried look before turning to Trip. "Is she going to be all right?" he said under his breath so only the engineer could hear him. He'd seen people just as anxious at rugby matches, but the action went so much more quickly the stress was never so protracted.

"Sure," Trip assured him loudly. "She's just soaking in the drama. Right, Stephanie?"

"So _you_ say," the woman countered. "_I_ say I'm gonna die."

"And miss your team making history? I doubt it. Besides, you die, you don't get to collect on your bet."

Cormack peeked up at the screen from between her fingers. It reminded Reed of her attitude when watching the documentary footage of her college band days. He started to say so, but stopped himself just in time. "Are they keeping Danny in?" Stephanie was asking expectantly. Her eyes widened as her question was answered on the big screen. There was Mayer, striding once more onto the mound. "Oh my gods," she breathed, watching the slow-pitching south-paw throw what would be, one way or the other, his final warm up pitches of the game.

"Keep breathing, Ensign," teased Trip. "It'll all be over soon."

"Oh now _that's_ a cheery way to put it!" Trip just laughed. "How can you be so relaxed?" Stephanie demanded.

"I figured you're tense enough for both of us."

The first batter stepped up to the plate then, suspending further conversation. Reed was pretty sure Cormack was beyond coherent speech at that point anyway. Stephanie would have agreed, but

Two outs and still no hits later and Cormack was about to implode. She'd pulled her feet up onto the bench and wrapped her arms around her legs. At present, her chin was resting on her knees over which she peered nervously. Reed glanced around the room. While no one else was quite so demonstrative about it, it was clear tension was through the roof. Whether they were hoping for an out or a hit, every person was strung tight with anticipation as the third batter of the inning stepped up. Stephanie held her breath with every pitch. 

Foul off the left field line.

Ball one, low and outside.

Strike two, called.

"Come on," whispered the ensign like it was a mantra. "Come on. One more strike." She wasn't the only one. Several people were making similar noises.

Ball two, low and inside.

One side of the room cheered, the other groaned.

Ball three, low and inside.

More cheers, more groans.

"Three and two?! Could this be any worse?" Cormack practically squeaked, and then held her breath as Mayer wound up once more.

Foul off the third base line. Still three and two.

The throw, the swing, the crack as the ball flew off the bat. The result was inevitable. Drifting slowly out from second base, MacElroy waited patiently as the towering pop-up arced and began its descent, finally landing with a gratifying thump in his glove.

The crowds both in the ballpark and on _Enterprise_ exploded. The pandemonium in the stands wasn't quite what it would have been had the game been played in Vancouver rather than San Francisco, but the close proximity of the two cities allowed for an extensive number of Orcas fans to be in attendance, and they were certainly making their presence known. On the field, players leapt up and down, hats and gloves went flying into the air. As the heartbroken Giants watched, the Orcas rushed from the visitors' dugout to gather at the pitcher's mound and hoist their conquering hero into the air. The cameras cut to in front of the dugout where Olshevsky was currently pouring champagne over the head of the team's manager, both laughing joyously.

Champagne was also flowing in _Enterprise_'s Rec. Center, although without such wild abandon. A steward (and AL fan) had begun popping open the bottles and pouring out the sparkling pale liquid. Tucker laughed as he grabbed two glasses and passed them off to Reed and Cormack, then snagged one for himself. 

Archer strolled slowly over to the trio. "Congratulations," he said, trying not to sound as begrudging as he felt.

"Thank you, sir. Champagne?" Trip said, making to reach for another glass.

"No, thanks," replied Archer, the ribbing not lost on him. He turned to Reed. "Surprised to see you here, Malcolm. Did you enjoy the game?"

"Yes, thank you." He didn't want to sound too enthusiastic. He wasn't a real fan, after all, and didn't feel the need to antagonize his C.O. over the matter as Trip clearly did.

"You should be aware that Ensign Cormack here will be coming on duty two hours late for the next week."

"Sir?" Malcolm looked back and forth between the captain and the ensign.

"I'll let her explain." Archer looked at Cormack. "Congratulations, Ensign. And despite how it turned out, thanks for your help getting this set up for us."

"Thank you, Captain. And you're welcome. We can always hope we'll be doing this again next year."

Archer simply nodded and gave them all a tight, cheerless smile before leaving the Rec. Center. The crowd had thinned considerably in a short time, leaving only the American League fans to celebrate their victory.

Trip raised his glass, saying loudly, "To the Vancouver Orcas, 2151 World Champions!" Another celebratory cheer rose from the remaining folks as they raised their glasses and drank. Trip turned a curious eye on Cormack. "Not toasting, Ensign?"

"I don't drink, actually, Commander," she replied.

"Well, we have to find you something! Can't let an event like this go un-toasted!" the engineer declared. "Here. Hold this." He handed his glass to Reed, who took it reflexively. "Be right back." Tucker promptly disappeared from the room.

Malcolm looked down at the two glasses he held, shook his head. "This looks good, doesn't it?" he said with mild sarcasm. Stephanie just chuckled. She looked much more relaxed than she had before the game had ended, but she seemed a little ill at ease. "Here," said Malcolm. He quickly found a place to set down the glasses he held, then relieved Cormack of hers and returned it to the table where it had come from.

"Thanks," she said.

"So, what's this about you coming on duty late for the next week?" Reed asked.

"Commander Tucker and I had a bet with Captain Archer. If the Giants won, we were going to have to play steward to the Captain for a week. Fortunately, the better team won, so we both get to sleep in a couple of extra hours for the next week instead."

"Is that so?"

Trip returned at that moment with a drink in one hand and a bottle in the other. He set the bottle down and presented the glass to Cormack, saying, "Sparkling apple cider."

Stephanie smiled. "Thank you, Commander," she replied, accepting it.

"Now, where's that champagne?" He glanced around. Reed retrieved the glasses, handed him his. "Thanks, Malcolm," he said, giving him a warm smile. Reed brightened perceptibly, and Stephanie found herself grinning, too.

_Gods, he looks happy,_ she thought.

"Now," Trip was saying, "let's try this again." He held his glass high and repeated his earlier toast more quietly. The trio clinked their glasses and drank. Tucker tossed back the last of his champagne and sighed in satisfaction. "I need a refill. Malcolm?"

"No, thanks," the lieutenant said. "I'm fine."

"Well, I have an excuse to celebrate and the okay to sleep in tomorrow. I'm sure as hell not passing up the opportunity. Excuse me." He wended his way through the throng to where the open champagne bottles stood waiting.

Malcolm watched him go, his smile and his glance never wavering. Stephanie chuckled low in her throat. "What?" asked Reed, his attention broken by the sound.

"Nothing."

"I know that laugh, and it's never meant nothing."

Cormack was saved from having to explain herself by Trip's return. He'd claimed a nearly full bottle and was just refilling his glass as he approached. "Here, Malcolm, let me top that up for you," he offered, proceeding to pour without waiting for a response.

"No, really," protested Reed. "I don't need any more."

"Come on! Live it up! It's not everyday your team wins the World Series!" Tucker conveniently ignored the fact that the winning team wasn't really his or Reed's.

"Thank you, but some of us still have to get up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, that's a shame." Trip sounded sincere. Sincere enough, in fact, that Cormack felt it was time for a tasteful exit. Seeing the look that passed between Tucker and Reed, she decided she was rightbut it was the two men who needed to make the exit.

"Perhaps you should take advantage of the time you _do_ have," she said, her expression giving more hint of her meaning than her words did. She was amused (and admittedly a little gratified) to see both men blush at her suggestion. Malcolm even glanced around to see if anyone was within hearing range. It wasn't necessary. Stephanie was mischievous by nature, but never malicious. She'd made sure before speaking that no one would overhear her comment. 

Trip just stood there, at a loss as to how to respond. He wasn't as familiar with Cormack's teasing and sometimes devilish sense of humor. He could only hope Malcolm knew what to say.

"Would you excuse us for a moment, Commander?" was the lieutenant's response.

Tucker nodded, relieved. "Sure," he said.

Reed looked at Cormack. "Ensign?" he asked politely, gesturing for her to precede him to an empty corner of the room. He set down his drink and followed her.

That was the moment Stephanie realized she'd cross the line, and crossed it big time. "Malcolm, I'm sor—"

"Stop."

She stopped, clamping her mouth shut mid-word.

Reed continued quietly but forcefully. "You're my friend, or we wouldn't even be having this conversation. Understand?"

Stephanie nodded silently.

"I presume your intentions in making that comment were toward what you thought was my best interest. However, if or when Commander Tucker and I decide to spend the night in one another's company, I will not have it orchestrated by you. That eventuality is between him and me. Do I make myself clear?"

Too upset to even mentally kick herself for her behavior, she could only nod again. She'd seen Reed angry once or twice in the Armory, but it was always a brief outburst of temper. Never this quiet, intense, controlled fury.

Seeing her stricken expression, Reed relented a little. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know you didn't mean any harm, but I sometimes wonder if you _think_ about the things you say _before_ they actually come out of your mouth."

Cormack gave a contrite shrug. "I do," she said in a small voice. "I just don't always think of the consequences."

Reed regarded her carefully. Once he was past his own initial shock and anger, he could see how badly she felt about what she'd done. It wouldn't help anyone for him to continue to rail at her. "Perhaps," he said more gently, "you should consider thinking a bit further ahead in future."

"Yes, sir."

"It's all right. I'm still Malcolm."

Stephanie gave him a weak smile. "Oh, good," she said, trying to lighten her tone and her mood. "I was kind of worried for a minute there."

"Come on." Malcolm returned her smile with a stronger one of his own. "I'm sure the good commander is wondering just what's up. I say we keep him wondering."

Cormack laughed abruptly at the unexpected joke. The friendly camaraderie they'd shared earlier was back, despite her foolish behavior. "Right."

They returned to the waiting Trip who looked at them anxiously. "Everythingokay?" he asked a little apprehensively.

"Fine," replied Reed brightly. "But I think I'm going to turn in. As I said, not everyone has the luxury of sleeping in in the morning." He turned to Cormack and said, "Good night, Stephanie. Congratulations on your team's win."

"Thanks," she answered warmly.

Malcolm turned then to Trip. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Commander." The last was said with the barest hint of insinuation. In fact, it was so slight Trip wasn't certain if it was real or if he'd imagined it.

"You too," was all he managed to say before Reed simply smiled and left. Tucker turned to face Cormack. "So, what was all that about?"

"Excuse me?" she asked and took a sip of her cider to stall for time.

"Thatconversation you two had," he clarified. "Is everything all right?"

Stephanie quickly made her decision. "Actually," she said a little uncertainly, "that depends."

"Depends? On what?"

She was almost afraid to ask for fear she'd only make matters worse. _But,_ she reasoned, _best to have it out in the open rather than go to bed wondering._ "On you." At his mystified expression, she crossed mental fingers and continued. "Are youangrywith me? About what I said a minute ago, I mean?"

"What? About taking advantage of the time?" Cormack nodded, and Trip considered before answering. How had he felt? Was he angry? "No. You sure shocked the hell out of me, I gotta admit," added with a small chuckle. Stephanie joined in the quiet laughter, relieved beyond her expectations. "But, no, I'm not mad."

"In that case, I'd say everything's just fine." She drained her glass and smiled broadly. "Care for another drink, Commander? After all, some of us _don't_ have to get up early—for once."

Trip grinned and finished his own beverage then refilled both glasses from the appropriate bottles. "Let's celebrate!"

"Cheers!" cried Cormack, and heard the cry echoed by several of the folks still left in the Rec. Center. She and Trip clinked glasses once more and drank to friendship, sleeping late, and the 2151 Vancouver Orcas.

*****  
End Log 17  
_(Completed 28 Feb 02)_

Continued in Log 18


	18. Log 18

**Log Rhythms**  
By DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

**Author's Note** – This is where my Schroedinger's Cat (I call him Leo.) becomes most apparent. For the first time, I've taken scenes from the episode but changed the actual dialogue. Unfortuante in a way as this was a very well-written ep, in my opinion. But we do what we feel we need to do.

*****

**Log 18:** (Takes place during _Shuttlepod One_.)  
_[Rating – PG]_

*****

_Enterprise_'s crew had completed their scans of the F-class star system and continued on their way. Now, they were mapping an asteroid field. There wasn't much for Cormack to do in the circumstances. With Lieutenant Reed off testing the targeting scanners in Shuttlepod One with Commander Tucker, the Armory was more than usually quiet. Not that Cormack was complaining. A little peace and quiet was welcomeoccasionally. This peace and quiet had gone on a little long for her liking, though.

There had been some excitement that morning when they picked up a distress call from a badly damaged vessel. Cormack was on the team that had helped the Tesnians on board once their escape pods had managed to dock in _Enterprise_'s landing bay. They hadn't arrived without incident, either. It was bad enough their ship's navigation and helm controls had suddenly failed causing extensive damage to the starboard door of Launch Bay Two when they attempted to dock. Now that ship was scattered over a square kilometer of one of the larger asteroids

Still, everything was under control again. _Enterprise_ was hurrying to return the stranded crew to their homeworld, Tesnia. Their projected schedule would bring _Enterprise_ back to the asteroid field days before Reed and Tucker were expected to rendezvous, but Stephanie was uneasy about the situation. She didn't like the feeling of having stranded them out there in deep space, even though she knew they'd done nothing of the sort. But she knew from Ensign Sato they'd been unable to reach the pair before altering course, and this was what was niggling at her conscience. It bugged her that Malcolm and Trip didn't know the ship was gone, and Hoshi hadn't been able to determine why she couldn't contact them. Unfortunately, they had limited time to get the Boron-breathing Tesnians home and so couldn't investigate the issue.

She tried to content herself with the thought that at least their mission would give the two men some uninterrupted alone time. Meanwhile, all she could do was go about her own life.

Tonight was the night they were finally going to begin Liz's new and oft-delayed role-playing game. The scanning and other work the crew had been doing on the F-class star system had forced the group to postpone their first gaming session. Now however, they were all free for the first night in nearly a month, and they were going to take advantage of it.

Stephanie and Mae had rolled up characters with Liz's guidance earlier in the week. This way they could come in marginally prepared to start the game. According to Cutler, Travis and Ethan were planning to play with the characters they'd created for their previous game.

Cormack stopped at the door to Lawless's quarters and rang the chime. The door opened almost immediately. "Hey," said Stephanie at Mae's sudden appearance.

"Hey, yourself," replied her friend. "Come on in. I'm almost ready. What's the datapad for?" she asked, gesturing to it.

Stephanie stepped into the cabin. Aside from the small personal touches, it was identical to her own. "Travis said to be ready to take notes."

"Notes? I have to take _notes_? Liz said nothing about notes. What, is there a quiz at the end?" She made a show of searching through the datapads on the desk until she found one she felt she could devote to the RPG.

"I don't expect so," replied Stephanie. "From what Travis told me, we'll be lucky if we make it to the end without getting killed off."

"Great." Inside, Lawless was grinning. She didn't know all the details of the RPG by any means, but she'd worked with Liz on the basic scenario. It wasn't often she got the chance to plan such an elaborate prank, and she was living it up. "Okay," she said. "Let's go." They left the cabin and made their way quickly to the mess hall.

The others were already there waiting for them. "Glad to see you decided to join us," teased Liz.

The pair decided to ignore the quip and pulled up chairs to the large oval table. There were still a few folks scattered around the other tables, but it was getting late and most people had cleared out.

"Stephanie Cormack, Mae Lawless, this is Ethan Novakovitch," Cutler said, gesturing to the science crewman. Hellos were exchanged as the women sat and made themselves comfortable. "Do you have your character sheets?"

"Yep," answered Cormack promptly.

"Nope," replied Lawless equally promptly.

Liz gave the engineer a sardonic look. "Remind me why we rolled them up in advance?" She shook her head. "Luckily for you, I keep meticulous notes. Ready?"

Mae picked up the datapad she'd tossed onto the table and sat ready to input her character's information. "Go ahead."

"Name: Barbarella."

Stephanie laughed. "Are you kidding?"

Lawless looked at her defensively. "What? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, nothing." She shook her head.

"You wouldn't be making fun if you didn't know where the name comes from. What does that say about you?" Mae gibed.

"Fair enough."

Liz gave them both a slightly irritated look. "May I continue?" Receiving silence as her response, she went on. "Strength, five; Intelligence, three; Charisma, seven; Dexterity, seven; Luck, four. Got it?"

"Got it," said Lawless.

"Good. Now, usually the character with the highest charisma leads, but Barbarella and Travis's character Unk both have a seven. However, Unk is carrying experience points so he is your de facto leader."

"Works for me," said Stephanie. 

Mae nodded. She was happy to defer to a player with more experience. That way if someone got killed, he could take the blame.

"All right. Here's your scenario," said Liz, now in full Game Master mode. "You've received a distress call from a passenger carrier. They've been attacked by an unknown foe and forced down onto a small planetoid."

"What kind of ship do we have, and what are the armaments and defenses?" Mayweather wanted to know. He already had his datapad ready to capture the information Liz provided. Cormack took a cue from him and picked up hers as well.

Cutler quickly briefed them on the ship, its engines, and its defenses and weaponry.

"Hang on," said Cormack. "What are these 'ship's phasers'? Is that like _Enterprise_'s phase cannons?"

"Yes and no." Liz had done some extra research, knowing her bunkmate was a stickler for detail when it came to her chosen field. She had tried to make the fictional weapons different from the real thing but still believable. "They have the same range as the phase cannons, but can be set for either a stun or kill setting. And they can be fired in bursts of one second up to ten seconds."

"Wicked," Cormack murmured, nodding appreciatively.

Liz was gratified that her work hadn't gone unnoticed, but didn't let on. She had her GM face on and wasn't about to let any inadvertent expressions give away her secrets.

"I want to know about these engines," put in Lawless. "No ship that small has room for a warp engine."

"No _real_ ship that small," argued Mayweather. "Not real, remember?"

"Yeah, Mae," agreed Cormack. "You're good at suspending your disbelief over those B-movies of yours. Just apply the same principles here."

"All right, all right." Lawless looked over at Cutler. "What's our objective?"

"Simple," said Liz.

"I doubt it," muttered Ethan, exchanging a look with Travis who chuckled softly.

Liz chose to ignore them. "You have to rescue the crew and passengers of the downed transport."

"What's the catch?" asked Travis.

"You don't know who attacked them. You have no transporter of any kind. Oh, and the life-support systems on the transport are damaged so you're working within a limited time frame," answered Liz with a serene smile.

"How limited?"

"You don't know."

"Number of people we're looking to rescue?" asked Stephanie.

"You don't know."

"Then how do we know they'll all fit on our little-bitty ship?"

"I think we have to assume they will," put in Ethan. "Otherwise, we'd stand no chance of achieving our objective."

Cormack nodded. "Good point."

"Before you start, you might do a quick run-down on who's at what station," advised Cutler. "Compare your numbers and see who goes where."

Quickly, the four players compared notes. With her dexterity of ten, Cormack was the logical choice for pilot, while Novakovitch was at tactical. Mayweather was on the comm, leaving Lawless happily running the engines.

"All right," said Stephanie. "We've picked up the distress call. Kiki is flying the ship, so I lay in a course based on the direction of their transmission."

"And you make fun of _my_ character's name?" Lawless muttered.

"Am I getting anything on sensors the closer we get to the signal's origin?" asked Ethan.

"Depends what you're scanning," was Cutler's cryptic reply.

"Space. We're not close enough for us to pick up the transport crew yet, and if whoever forced them down is still out here I want to see them coming."

"In that case, yes, you're picking up something on your sensors."

"How far away? Are we talking long-range or something closer in?" the science crewman turned tactical officer wanted to know.

"Mid-range."

"How fast are they coming in and can I tell what their weapons are?"

"What're your strength and luck quotients combined?"

Novakovitch checked his notes. "Eight."

"All right." She handed over two six-sided dice. "Roll."

Ethan rolled and totaled up the numbers. "Eight."

"They're coming in at warp one, but you can't tell what their armaments are." In truth, it didn't matter what Novakovitch had rolled; Liz would have given the same information no matter the total. It was part of the GM mystique to look like she had all sorts of statistics at her fingertips. Besides, she liked to keep her players guessing.

"Just one ship?"

"As far as you can see."

"Good. We still have time to get to the planetoid," put in Cormack. "Can they see us?"

"You don't know, but they haven't picked up speed or changed course."

"I'm trying to hail the downed transport," Mayweather reminded the GM. "Any chance of contacting them now that we're closer?"

"You're picking up more of their hail, but they can't hear you."

"What more are we picking up?"

"Intelligence quotient?"

He glanced at his datapad. "Eight."

Cutler pretended to check her notes once again, handed him three six-sided dice. "Roll." He did, coming up with thirteen. "Crew compliment of two plus three passengers. Earth-origin."

"Well, that's a plus," said Travis. "If they're human, we should have whatever we need to help any injured parties."

Liz fought back a surprised expression. Travis had had an annoying habit of getting ahead of her when they'd played previously. He was staying true to form today. Not for the first time, she wondered if it was really wise to game with your significant otheror to date one of your gamers. She pushed the thought aside and focused on the game. Fortunately, she had a good supply of curves to throw Travis and the rest of the group before this little campaign was done.

_Wait until they find out the planetoid is in an asteroid field._ Cutler chuckled inside, no sign of her mirth evident in her face or body.

*****

Unbeknownst to the group in the mess hall, Tucker and Reed were presently preparing to leave a real asteroid field—the one _Enterprise_ was supposed to be mapping. With their sensors and comm down, the only way to spot their mother ship was with their eyes, and when they had it had been too much to take in at once. There were the remains of _Enterprise_ scattered over a large asteroid, the 01 of her serial number still clearly visible on a ripped piece of hull.

The lifeboats were nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of life on the asteroid or in the space surrounding it. They were absolutely and irrevocably alone. Slowly, as the reality of their situation sank in, each man turned to old familiar behavior patterns in an attempt to deal with the inexplicable, terrible destruction of _Enterprise_ and her crew. 

After a brief shouting match about what they should do—an argument neither could nor did win—they set out in the direction they hoped would eventually bring them to the subspace amplifier Echo Three. Barring accidents or rescue, they'd arrive there in about three weeks—dead.

Reed took some comfort in the belief that at least the mystery would be solved for those left behind on Earth. Starfleet could never recover the rest of the crew, but maybe their families would be able to find closure by learning what had happened to their loved ones. As a result, he was recording a log entry in which he tried to explain what they'd found, the devastation he and Trip had seen.

Trip was working on the shuttlepod's sensor array, the need to keep busy overwhelming everything else. It was as if he could deny reality if he simply kept busy. He truly believed it would have worked, too, had not Malcolm been recording a positively funereal log entry.

Finally, Tucker couldn't take it anymore. "Why don't you cut the crap and get back here and help me?" he snapped.

Reed stopped the log recording and swiveled around to look at Trip. "What would you like me to do?" He found the commander's answer unsurprising and ultimately unhelpful.

"I don't know. You could hold this flashlight or turn down the heat. Whatever you want. I'm just getting a little tired of listening to all your pessimism." It was harsher than he'd meant it to come out, and Reed responded accordingly.

"If there's something you need me to do I will be more than happy to comply, but I'm afraid 'pessimism' is simply not an accurate description of my log entry," he said in clipped tones. Then his voice softened a little and Trip could hear the pain in it. "I'm just being realistic, Commander."

It was clear Malcolm was hurting, but this fatalism on his part really got to Tucker. Trip wondered how he could care so much for someone so different from himself, and how that same someone could care for him as he believed Malcolm did. Still, he pushed his personal feelings for the lieutenant aside. If he gave in to them now, he was bound to spiral beyond them into his feelings for _Enterprise_'s crew and all the friends he'd lost thereincluding Jon. He simply wasn't yet ready to face that reality. In truth, he didn't know if he'd ever be ready. 

There was a tiny part of him that hoped he'd never have to—that they really would be dead in barely a week and a half. Could he ignore the truth that long? He didn't know, but he was willing to give it a try. He clung to his illusions with an iron grip of will. "We've got _nine days_," he said emphatically. "We're bound to find someone out here."

"At warpperhaps," argued Malcolm. "But at impulse?" He couldn't understand why Trip didn't seem to get what he was saying. It was as if he was deliberately denying the facts. He tried to pay attention as Tucker listed half a dozen alien species.

"God knows who's going to be lurking around the next planet we run into," the engineer insisted.

"But that's just it, sir," Reed replied, trying to keep the argument on a professional level. "At impulse, we're not likely to be running into _any_ planets. Not for at least six or seven years." He fought hard to keep his voice from breaking but had only marginal success.

"Then somebody can run into us. You ever think of that? Or see us on their sensors. The possibilities are endless." Part of Trip was trying to stay calm. The rest was determined to get and stay pissed off. Anger was good for keeping other more painful emotions at bay. However, being a normally good-natured and cheerful individual, he was fighting an uphill battle. Malcolm's pained tones and expression, no matter how he tried to hide them, were only making it more difficult.

"I'll heat up some rations," the lieutenant said, and Tucker's control almost failed him. Then Reed continued acerbically, "Unless you'd prefer to wait for a ship serving proper meals."

It strengthened Trip's resolve. "Rations will be fine."

It was while they were deciding on dinner that Malcolm found the bottle. "Kentucky bourbon," he said, reading the label.

"Huh," replied Trip. "The Captain was planning to give that to somebody. Can't remember who." He gave the smallest of shrugs, barely kept the fatalism from his voice as he added, "Guess it's ours now."

Reed set the bottle aside, saying nothing. In truth, he didn't know what to say. While he had become close with a few members of the crew and had really begun to feel as though he belonged on _Enterprise_, he knew Trip considered many of them friends—and then there was Captain Archer. His bland stoicism over that loss especially had Malcolm thoroughly puzzled.

He was thinking hard as he put Trip's choice of rations in to heat. He'd meant for some time to ask Trip about his history with the Captain, but there'd never been a moment when it seemed appropriate. He wasn't the sort who liked to pry, and he didn't want to appear jealous of the relationship the engineer shared with Archer. In truth he was a little jealous, though he would barely admit that even to himself. More than that, he wanted to know more about Trip. How had he and Archer met? Why was he so devoted to him? He knew the captain had saved Trip's life several years ago; he even knew a little bit about the circumstances. But what was it in their history that had caused Tucker to trust Archer so completely? He knew it didn't really matter. It was past. _But not irrelevant,_ he told himself. Everything Trip had ever experienced went into making him the man he was now—the man Malcolm cared for more than anyone he'd known his entire life. And every little thing he learned about him made him love the engineer that much more.

He was about to broach the subject when the heater hummed and slid open, revealing the now steaming meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Reed carefully handed over the hot tray, the moment lost. He popped his own choice in and waited the brief time for it, too, to heat. 

"What's that?" asked Trip.

"The sea bass," replied Reed. He took a cautious bite of the fish. It was far from his favorite, but he figured he'd rather have it now than save something he didn't like for his last meal. And he was sure one of the ration packets would indeed be his last meal.

"How is it?"

"Mmm. It's lovely," Malcolm said, not entirely truthfully. "Thank you."

They continued to eat in silence. Each caught in his own turbulent thoughts and memories.

Malcolm thought of Ensign Cormack, the woman with whom he'd become fast friends in the brief months they'd been aboard _Enterprise_. He'd requested her for the tactical department based solely on her service record and the recommendations in her Starfleet files. It had never occurred to him at the time how close they would grow. In a way, he wanted to regret his choice of adding her to the staff. Surely if he hadn't she'd still be alive, maybe even getting promoted and given the position of Armory Officer on one of the new NX-class ships being built at Jupiter Station. But he couldn't regret the friendship they'd had. It meant a lot to him that someone had actually tried to get to know him. It wasn't something he was overly familiar with, that interest in him as person. He'd never been good at making friends, but somehow with Stephanie it had been almost easy, natural. Now she was dead. He cleared his throat, blinking back tears that threatened to emerge.

"You okay?" Tucker looked at him, uncertain.

Reed nodded. "Just something down the wrong pipe," he lied.

Trip acknowledged this with a small nod of his own, then fell back into his own musings. He was trying hard to keep his mind on practical matters such as repairing the comm system. If the sensors were fried, the next best bet to help them get out of this jam was communications. And he had to believe there was a way out. He flatly refused to accept that this was where it was going to end. _At least you're going to die with the man you love,_ a little voice in his head told him. _Shut up,_ he argued back. _We're not going to die here._ Then there was a moment of stunned silence in his mind as he realized just what that little voice had said.

Malcolm noticed him sitting there, wide-eyed and suddenly very still. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

Trip started at the unexpected sound. "Huh? Yeah Yeah," he repeated, cursing his inarticulation. "I'm not hungry anymore. I think I'm going to try to get a little shut-eye."

"Will it bother you if I record some letters?" Malcolm asked hesitantly. "I'll try to keep it down, of course."

What could he say? "No. Go ahead."

An hour and a half later, Trip was regretting his decision immensely. Not just telling Reed to go ahead and record his letters, but also his own decision to try to sleep. He'd spent the time tossing and turning on one of the padded but still impossibly uncomfortable benches in the back of the shuttlepod. At first, he'd though maybe Malcolm's constant quiet chatter would lull him to sleep; he did love the sound of the tactical officer's voice after all, rich and lilting with its British accent. (Not that he'd ever have admitted to him—he was sure he'd never hear the end of the teasing if he did.) At the very least, the continuous one-sided conversation gave Tucker's mind somewhere to focus besides on all the people he'd lost in the destruction of _Enterprise_.

Trip took some slight comfort when he heard Malcolm actually mention him to his sister Madeline. Although from his words, it was a toss up whether Madeline would think they were friends or just two guys who happened to work together once in a while and were now stuck in a shuttlepod together to die. Still, it was more recognition than anyone else had gotten so far. Tucker wondered just what that meant, in the grand scheme of things. Should he be flattered that Malcolm told his sister about him when no one else was getting even a mention? He didn't know. He decided to take it as a compliment. He rolled over yet again, tried to will himself to sleep.

He failed. After listening to Malcolm prattle on to his sister, his aunts, and now his parents, Trip was about at the end of his rope. 

"Malcolm!" he finally said sharply. "You've been at it for _hours_ now. Don't you think it's time to give it a rest?"

Reed paused only momentarily before continuing into the recorder. "As I'm sure you must have heard that was my esteemed colleague Commander Charles Tucker." Reed looked pointedly at Trip while he continued to speak into the pod's recorder. "Mr. Tucker doesn't share my belief that it is essential to say what must be said, to leave a record—tie up loose ends." He looked away again, gave an ironic, mirthless chuckle. "Mr. Tucker is laboring under the false hope that we are going to be miraculously rescued before we both suffocate."

That was when Trip hit the breaking point. It had been a long and miserable day, and he was worn out. He threw off his blanket angrily and covered the distance between himself and Reed with a stride. He knelt next to him and faced the recorder, spoke into it. "Mr. and Mrs. Reed, I realize you've just begun a period of mourning and that I'll never get an answer to this question, but I've got to ask it anyway. Was Malcolm always this cynical?"

Reed and Tucker exchanged glances, one sad, one frustrated. Trip refused to see the pain in Malcolm's eyes as he hid his own behind a mask of hostility. He couldn't break now. He refused to give in to despair.

"In a few days," said Malcolm coldly, "when the reality of this situation actually begins to sink in, you may decide you want to record some logs of your own. You have my word I will not interrupt you."

"I just need to get some sleep, Malcolm," snarled Trip through clenched teeth. "Is that so hard to understand?" _Do you think I don't care?_ he wanted to shout. _Do you think it doesn't rip me apart to think of everyone we've lost?_

Malcolm fought to keep his voice even as he replied. "We have less than nine days of air left. It seems a waste to use it up sleeping." He cursed himself internally as he heard the catch in his voice. In his own way he, too, was fighting not to give in to despair. He was determined to face his fate without desperation or fear, but with calm realism and as much dignity as he could muster.

"If I don't waste some oxygen sleeping," argued Trip, "I'm going to start getting real cranky. And you don't want to spend your last nine days cooped up with me when I'm cranky." Trip stood again as best he could in the tight space of the shuttlepod. He reached angrily across Malcolm where the lieutenant sat at the pod's helm. "So turn that thing off" he continued, shutting off the recording. The device gave a satisfying beep as it terminated. "and get some rest!" He lay back down on the hard bench and pulled the blanket over him once again, shooting a final angry glance over his shoulder at Reed before turning to face the bulkhead.

Furious and frustrated, there was nothing more Malcolm could do. He couldn't sleep; he knew that without even having to try. Instead, he picked up the datapad he'd discarded shortly after they'd spotted the wreckage of _Enterprise_, and he began to read. If he was lucky and what everyone back in university had said was true, he should be out cold about ten pages into his electronic copy of _Ulysses_.

*****

"Ugh," moaned Cormack at the sound of her alarm. "Where are those two extra hours when I really need them?" But that bet was over and gone nearly three weeks ago. Today, she had no choice but to roll miserably out of her bunk and get ready for another morning bridge shift. Usually, she enjoyed the time she got to spend on the bridge. It didn't happen every day, and she was proud that she'd been the one Lieutenant Reed had selected take his Alpha-shift position while he was away from the ship. But today she just wanted to go back to bed an sleep for another six hours.

"Shut that thing off, will you?" complained Cutler from own bunk barely a meter away.

"No. Get up. It's you're fault we were up so late, so if I have to get up now, so do you." She left the alarm beeping infuriatingly as she stumbled into the lav. She winced as the bright light came on automatically when she entered.

"How do you figure that?" demanded her bunkmate belligerently, still stubbornly under her blankets.

"Because it was your game," called Stephanie through the door. She emerged and mercilessly turned on the cabin light to full.

Liz groaned and tried to hide her face in her pillow. Cormack pulled it out from under her. "Bitch," Liz muttered. She sat up slowly, blinking and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Thank you," Stephanie replied acerbically. She opened her locker and pulled out a clean uniform while Cutler made her unsteady way to the lav.

In truth, neither woman was mad at the other. They'd simply been up far too late the previous night gaming, and Cormack wasn't one for mornings on the best of days. Stephanie finally shut off her alarm and took a moment to bask in the silence. Then she stripped out of her pajamas and pulled on a set of blues. "I had the weirdest dream last night," she said, suddenly remembering.

"Yeah?" replied Cutler over the sound of water running into the lav's polished aluminum sink. "What was it? Asteroids and aliens?"

"No. Got enough of that when we were playing that damned game of yours."

Liz snorted derisively, but it went unnoticed by her bunkmate. She dried her face, and the two traded places at the sink. "So what was it about?"

Stephanie splashed her face with hot water, scrubbing well to wake herself up before she answered. "I'm not really sure," she said. Reluctantly, she shut off the water and dried herself off. "I think I was floating," she continued. She moved back to her locker and pulled on the black turtleneck that went under the Starfleet coveralls. Liz dressed as she listened to her bunkmate's brief narrative. "Wherever I was, it was cold. And I was alone."

"Could you see anything around you?"

"No. But I don't think it was dark. Though I wouldn't say it was light, either." Stephanie shook her head and ran her fingers through her long, unruly hair, trying to get it under control enough to begin braiding it. She looked at herself in the small mirror. "Screw it," she muttered. She pulled the wild curls back and wrapped a band around them. 

"That's a break with tradition," joked Cutler.

"It may become a new tradition if we have any more nights like last night," Cormack replied flatly. "I'm completely wiped." She stepped into her uniform and did up the zip, then sat and pulled on socks and boots. That done, she moved to the sink once more.

"Tell me more about your dream." Cutler sat on her bunk, gave her hair a quick brushing.

"That's all I can remember." Stephanie loaded her toothbrush with toothpaste and began cleaning her teeth.

"That's it? You said it was really weird. I was hoping for pink elephants at least." Liz shoved her feet into her boots and joined her bunkmate at the sink. Their conversation was temporarily suspended while the two stood there brushing their teeth.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Cormack said when she'd finished, replacing the brush in its holder. "But I don't really think of my subconscious as a place for a modern retelling of _Fantasia_." 

Liz gave a one-shouldered shrug and quickly rinsed her mouth. "Maybe you should talk to Doctor Douglas about your dream," she suggested.

"Good idea, but my session isn't until tomorrow. I expect to be unconscious by then."

Her bunkmate chuckled. "Grouchy," she teased.

Stephanie looked at her expressionlessly. "You are way too freaking chipper in the morning. Remind me to shoot you later."

"Come on," Liz said amiably. "I know what you need." She steered her friend out the cabin door and into the corridor. They made their way to the mess hall where Liz picked up two mugs. She placed the first one under the drinks dispenser and said, "Café latté, three shots, non-fat milk, hot."

"Extra foam," muttered Cormack.

"Extra foam." The machine dutifully dispensed the beverage, and Cutler carefully handed it to her bunkmate.

Stephanie took a moment to inhale the aroma before taking a sip. As always, she sighed. This morning it was an even more heartfelt sigh than usual.

Liz tried not to laugh as she set her own mug on the small platform, saying, "Hot coffee, black and sweet."

That was where Lawless found them when she arrived seconds later. "I will kill you for this," were her first words. It wasn't clear exactly which of them the comment was aimed at, so Cutler and Cormack each decided it was meant for the other. Liz claimed her filled mug and wisely got out of Mae's way. The engineer put her own mug under the tap. "Espresso, two shots, hot."

Cormack shuddered at the order. Mae scowled at her. "It's not my favorite morning beverage either, but if I'm going to stay awake through my shift today, it's necessary. Lieutenant Hess is great, but she wouldn't understand if she found me face down in the matter/anti-matter intermix chamber."

"Morning, ladies!" said Travis cheerfully, joining the group. All three just glared at him. "What?"

Stephanie looked at her bunkmate. "Is he always like this in the morning?"

"I couldn't say," replied Liz. "But I think so, yes."

"And you're still dating him?"

"You get used to it."

Cormack looked up at the tall young man. "I doubt it. I'm going to the bridge."

"I'd finish that coffee first," Mayweather advised. "The Captain's pretty cool about that sort of thing, but the bridge stations don't come with cup holders."

"Really," said Stephanie to Liz, "and somehow you've managed to not kill him?" Liz just shrugged, an expression of 'What can I tell you?' on her face. Cormack shook her head in amazement. "Well, if I have to stay here, I'm sitting down." She spotted fresh pastries on her way to a table and grabbed an apple danish. Not bothering with a plate, she sat heavily at a table and took a bite of the sweet. "Goddess bless Chef," she said with a sigh.

The others joined her shortly, each with her or his own eclectic breakfast selections. Mae with her bowl of cereal: "Peanut butter crunchies," she said with her first smile of the morning. Liz with her Vulcan plomeek broth "It's actually pretty good." and a small bowl of fresh fruit. And Travis with a heaping plate of hashbrowns and scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice. "What now?" he demanded as the women stared at him.

"Nothing," Liz assured him. She gave the others a warning look and they eased off.

"So, are we on again for tonight?" the helmsman asked, oblivious to the danger of the question.

Surprisingly, Mae said, "I'm in." Stephanie looked at her with as much shock as she could muster. "But we're setting a time limit tonight. No more of this all-nighter crap."

"Agreed," said Liz quickly. "Stephanie?"

"Yeah, all right. It's not like it wasn't fun," she admitted. "I just need to get more than four hours of sleep—especially when I'm supposed to be on the bridge first thing in the a.m."

"Okay. I'll make sure it's good with Ethan. Assume it is unless you hear otherwise."

"Any chance we're going to finally find that downed transport tonight?" Mayweather wanted to know.

"I don't know," Liz replied coyly. "Are you going to figure out what's disrupting your sensors?"

"Bitch," mumbled Stephanie around a bite of her pastry.

"Hey!" protested Travis on behalf of his girlfriend.

"It's okay," Cutler assured him with a small smirk and a sidelong glance at her bunkmate. "It's just girl-talk."

*****

_So much for denying reality,_ Trip thought. At Malcolm's announcement of the punctured O-2 tank, his heart had sunk. At his further declaration that their remaining air supply was less than two days' worth, he closed his eyes and ran a hand hopelessly through his short-cropped hair. Suddenly, all the work he'd done to get the communications receiver repaired seemed like an exercise in futility. _You can do this, Trip,_ he told himself firmly.

"I'll get the valve sealant," he said, sitting up from where he was sprawled on the pod's deckplating. The mashed potatoes Malcolm had used to temporarily plug the tiny hull breaches weren't going to hold for longand it gave him something to focus his mind on besides the fact that they were now one week closer to dying.

They got the tiny holes in the hull sealed up, and Trip turned to other matters. With the O-2 tank now empty, he was looking for ways to squeeze every last molecule of oxygen from the shuttlepod's systems. An idea struck him, and he turned to Malcolm who sat across from him at the rear of the pod.

"Would another half day be worth freezing your butt off?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" Reed wanted to know.

"If we lower the thermostat in here to about minus-five centigrade we should be able to use that power to boost the efficiency of the atmosphere recyclers."

"Hm. Our last two and a half days freezing versus our last two days toasty warm. What a delightful choice," he said wryly.

"I'd pick freezing," opined Trip. "Another half day's another half day."

"Freezing it is, then."

"Besides," Trip continued with a shy sidelong glance at Malcolm. "There are other ways to stay warm." He looked back to the panel where he was working and lowered the thermostat, trying not to appear as nervous as he felt as he waited for Reed's reaction.

Aside from Cormack's off-hand suggestion a few weeks back, they'd not broached to subject of physical intimacy. At least not in so many words. There'd been times where Tucker had wanted to, and he was pretty sure Malcolm had, too. But somehow the moment had never been quite right. Whether it was an issue of duty-shifts getting in the way or simply inappropriate timing in general, they'd not yet taken that particular step. 

Several moments passed, and still Malcolm said nothing. _Great,_ thought Tucker. _All the talking he's done in the last 30 hours, and he picks now to be the strong silent type._ "Cat got your tongue?" he said aloud, glancing apprehensively in Reed's general direction. There wasn't really any place else to look in the confined space of the pod, but he did his best to read the expression on Malcolm's face without actually making eye-contact with him. "You're the one who believes it's necessary to—how did you put it?—say what must be said. Tie up loose ends."

Reed was caught by his own words. "I did say that, didn't I?" he said quietly. How to put what he was thinking now into words? That was challenging enough, but words that would make sense to another person? He sincerely doubted he could do it. He looked at Trip who was obviously trying not to look back. He owed it to him to at least try to explain.

_Dive in, Malcolm,_ he said to himself. _Pick a place and start._ "I do want to." _That's a hell of a place to pick!_ his mind exclaimed. "I'm embarrassed to admit just how many times I've dreamed of just that." He couldn't stop the self-deprecating chuckle, didn't even try. He was gratified by a similar response from Trip.

"Yeah. I know what you mean," the fair-haired engineer replied, his cheeks pinking ever so slightly. Reed wondered if it was from the admission or the rapidly cooling temperature.

Malcolm continued. "But I don't want to here. Not now." Trip finally looked directly at him, puzzlement in his pale blue eyes. "Oh I have no qualms about the surroundings," Reed assured him lightly. "You wouldn't believe Never mind. No need to go into that now." It was Malcolm's turn to blush.

Trip filed the information away for further inquiry. When they got out of this mess, he was definitely going to follow up on that little confession. "So, why not here? Why not now?" he asked instead.

"Because" Malcolm worked hard to get what he wanted to say just right in his mind before saying it out loud. "Because we'd both wonder if we were only doing it because we're about to die."

"We're not gonna die!" exclaimed Tucker angrily.

"My God!" Malcolm replied disgustedly. "It's not just a river in Egypt, is it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Denial, Commander." He deliberately switched back to the formal title, the intimacy of the moment gone. "How can you continue to sit there and deny the fact that we are going to be dead in a little over two days?!"

"I'm not denying anything! I'm just trying to hang on to a little _hope_! Damn it, Malcolm, I love you!" Trip shouted furiously. "Although the way you've been acting since we saw that wreckage is really making wonder why. You say you've been dreaming about me? Well, I've had my share of dreams too, and I'm sick and tired of waking up from them all hot and bothered and _alone!_ But that's just fine," he continued in a tone that proved there was clearly nothing fine about it. "If that's the way you want it, that's the way it's going to be."

He stood and fished in the port side storage locker. "Here." He thrust a jacket and cap at Reed who took them reflexively. "It's getting cold." Trip pulled another set out and put them on. "I'm going to see if I can do anything with the transmitter." Taking the damaged board in one hand, he sat on the floor next to his open tool-kit and began his attempt at repairs.

Reed didn't move—couldn't move. He just sat there in stunned silence, Trip's words still ringing in his ears. Several minutes passed, the only sounds the hum of the pod's engines and the small noises as Trip worked on the transmitter. Finally, Reed spoke.

"I had no idea," he said huskily.

"Yeah? Well now you do," answered Trip curtly, not looking up from his work.

"I'd hoped Wondered But I never thought"

"Never thought what?" the engineer said, not really expecting an answer.

"Never thought I'd hear anyone say that to me."

Tucker froze at the quiet sadness of that simple confession. He looked up at Reed where he still sat on the starboard bench. He tried to wrap his head around what he'd just been told. _Never expected someone to say they loved him?_ his mind asked. _But why?_ "What about your family?" he asked gently.

Malcolm laughed mirthlessly. "If you'd met them, you wouldn't need to ask that."

"But what aboutrelationships?" Trip hated to bring it up. Malcolm hadn't told him much about past lovers. He knew he'd had them, but he'd always assumed from Malcolm's reluctance to discuss it that he'd had his heart broken at some point, and didn't want to open up old wounds. It seemed he was wrong.

"Relationships?" Reed shook his head. "I'd hardly call them that. Random encounters, maybe. Flings, more likely. But not relationships. I never could get very close to any of them, to be honest." _Except one_ He shoved the thought aside and gave another sardonic, self-deprecating chuckle. "Wonder why."

It broke Trip's heart. Unable to stand it any more, he set aside the components he held. He knelt before Malcolm who continued to sit there, staring at nothing. He looked so forlorn Trip could think of nothing to say that might cheer him. Instead, he took the coat and hat from the tactical officer's cold hands. Slowly, tenderly, he wrapped the jacket around Malcolm's hunched shoulders and placed the baseball cap on his head. Then, he took Malcolm's hands in his own and placed gentle kisses upon them.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly, looking up into desolate blue eyes. "I promise you'll never have to wonder again. Whether we live for two more days or two hundred years" Malcolm had to laugh at the absurdity of the comment. Trip chuckled, too, but went on. "I promise you'll never have to wonder if you're loved. You are, and you always will be, by me." He released his hands and rose up higher on his knees so they were on a level, eye to eye. Tucker placed his palms on Malcolm's stubbled cheeks and pulled him close in a long, sweet, loving kiss.

*****

Malcolm shivered and glanced at the instrument panel. The temperature had dropped significantly in the hours since Tucker had turned it down. Frost had formed on the controls, and the pod's windows were rapidly icing up. He sighed and could see his breath.

Suddenly, the comm crackled with static. Tucker quickly grabbed the datapad that was linked to it to see if he could determine the source.

"A ship?" asked Reed, trying not to get his hopes up too high. It would be too easy to have them dashed again. Besides, he was feeling surprisingly content. He may only have two days left to live, but at least he would be spending every minute of them with someone he loved and who loved him in return. _There are worse ways_ _to die,_ he thought.

"It's a little more modulated than the last time but it could be just a random gamma-ray burst."

Malcolm nodded, accepting the statement without surprise. His mind drifted to _Enterprise_'s lost crew members. He was startled when Trip spoke again to discover the engineer's thoughts were paralleling his own.

"Travis and Hoshi couldn't have been more than 24 or 25 years old," he said, a touch of sadness in his voice.

"If the Captain were here with us now I wonder if he'd feel guilty about bringing them on this mission," said Malcolm softly, remembering his thoughts of Stephanie the day before.

Tucker shook his head firmly. "Not for a minute. They died doing what they loved."

"I don't remember Hoshi loving much about being in deep space."

"Ah, she was coming along. She saved our asses on more than one occasion."

Malcolm had to nod in agreement. He'd lost track of how many times the comm officer's linguistic know-how had gotten them out of potentially lethal situations.

"Well," continued Tucker, climbing to his feet, "I'm getting nowhere with this damn transmitter." He'd been working on the thing for over an hour and couldn't honestly claim to have made any progress. "You want something to eat?" He knelt and opened the locker where the rest of the rations were stored. Sitting on the edge of the open locker, he asked, "What'll it be?"

"I'm not hungry."

Trip spotted something in the locker, pulled it out. "Well, then how 'bout a drink?" he said, eyeing the bottle of Kentucky bourbon appreciatively.

"I don't drink on duty."

"Are you serious? Who's going to report us? What's the matter, Lieutenant?" he teased, trying to lighten his lover's morose mood. "You afraid the autopsy'll show your blood alcohol level was too high to pilot a shuttle?" He pulled out a box containing drinking glasses, and then stood, letting the top of the locker fall shut. He sat on the bench and opened the box, pulling out two tumblers and setting them upright next to him. Next, he opened the whiskey and poured a good shot into each one.

Trip carefully recapped the bottle before picking up the glasses. He held one out to Reed, saying, "Live a little. That's an order." He gave the lieutenant a quirk of a smile so he'd know he was only teasing.

Grudgingly, Malcolm took the glass, but he didn't drink. Tucker swallowed half of his in one gulp, then knelt at the back of the shuttlepod, released a catch in the deckplating. A section of the floor slid up revealing emergency supplies. Without a word, he got out one of the oil candles and lit it.

"Do you really think that's going to provide any heat?" asked Malcolm.

"The bourbon'll provide the heat. The candle's just for mood." He looked up, noticed Reed was still just sitting there, shivering and staring blankly into the glass of amber liquid. Trip sighed, watched his breath puff out in a cloud of white. It hurt his heart to see Malcolm like that, so he did the only thing he could think of. Raising his own glass, he gave a toast he knew the tactical officer couldn't let pass. "To the brave men and women of the starship _Enterprise_."

Reed glanced at him, almost smiled. He raised his glass in salute, and they both drank.

*****

T'Pol stepped onto the bridge from the captain's ready room and stopped immediately at the tactical station. "Ensign, is Shuttlepod One within sensor range?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Cormack. "They came into view just ten minutes ago."

The Vulcan turned and approached the helm. "Mr. Mayweather, change course for the following coordinates." She recited them precisely, and Travis input them into the system.

He made the quick mental calculations. "At our current speed, we should be there in just under 42 hours." They had left the Tesnian system a few hours previously, having delivered the refugees safely home. The aliens were still shaken from their ordeal, but otherwise well.

Nodding in acknowledgement of Travis's statement, T'Pol turned to Hoshi at the comm station. "Hail Shuttlepod One. Tell them we need to rendezvous at the new coordinates."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Sato, opening the comm.

Over at Tactical, Cormack watched these exchanges with interest. She wondered at the sudden change in plan, but didn't expect the Science Officer to explain on her own. She'd had little direct contact with the Vulcan, but had quickly learned she wasn't one to share information unnecessarily.

"Ma'am?" Stephanie said, hoping she wasn't going to regret her actions. "May I ask why the change?"

T'Pol studied her momentarily, her expression seemingly blank. In fact, she was assessing the fair-haired tactical ensign. So far, she'd proved reliable and competent while carrying out her duties in absence of Lieutenant Reed. T'Pol saw no reason not to answer her inquiry.

"Our sensors detected the presence of micro-singularities in the area of the asteroid field where we were scheduled to meet. Were the shuttlepod to encounter one, it would be damaged. We're altering course in an attempt to avoid that possibility."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Sub-commander," said Hoshi, tension in her voice, "I'm not getting a response from the shuttlepod."

"Keep hailing them. Ensign Cormack, notify me when we are close enough to the shuttle to pick up life readings."

"Yes, ma'am."

*****

"Does that sound modulated enough for you?" the lieutenant asked.

"Modulated?" Trip looked around the shuttlepod, trying to figure out what Malcolm was talking about.

"The radio. Or is it just the galaxy giggling at us again?" Reed chortled merrily. He reached for the now half-empty bottle of whiskey and took a swig.

"It can giggle all it wants," declared Trip, "but the galaxy's not getting any of our bourbon." To punctuate his point, he took the bottle from Reed and made a show of taking a good long drink.

He looked at Reed though glazed eyes, appraising him. Malcolm was drunk. He looked more intently. Yes. He was definitely drunk. _Hell, so am I. Who'd've thought he was such a happy drunk, though?_ the commander puzzled, amused.

"What are you grinning at?" slurred the chuckling Malcolm. He pulled his blanket tighter around himself against the freezing cold.

"I'm not grinning," Trip argued. He shook his head exaggeratedly, his fine motor control long lost to the cold and the liquor.

"Yes you are. You're grinning right now." He reclaimed the bottle and took another swallow.

Tucker put a chilled hand to his face, felt it as best he could with numbed fingers. "Huh. You're right." Snickering, he reached out and took the bottle from Malcolm once again.

"You're awfully cute when you grin like that."

Trip nearly choked on the bourbon. "What?"

"I mean, I've always found you quite handsome," the tactical officer continued lightly, "and dead sexy." Trip snorted with laughter. "But I never realized how cute you can be."

"You've had too much to drink," said Tucker handing him back the bottle.

"Yes," agreed Malcolm with a broad and emphatic nod that just made Trip laugh harder. Then the lieutenant underscored his declaration with another drink.

Suddenly, they heard static crackling over the faulty comm system.

"It's probably nothing, right?" asked Reed, always the optimist.

Tucker scrambled to the pilot's seat and tried to force his fingers to function enough to work the comm panel. "It's definitely not nothing," he answered.

"Well then that means it's something!" declared Malcolm eagerly, coming to stand by his side. He leaned against the chair, unable to hold himself upright without help. "What is it? Is it something or someone? Because if it's someone"

"Shh!"

"Sorry." Malcolm shut up, held his breath while Trip did everything he could to enhance the signal they were receiving.

"Definitely someone."

"We have no way to respond, do we?" said Reed in a low voice. Tucker didn't answer, all his attention focused on the incoming message. "This is like the plane flying over the desert island in a lost-at-sea movie!" Malcolm practically wailed.

"Malcolm!" snapped Trip.

"Sorry," the lieutenant whispered again. He shut his eyes. "Happy endings. I must think happy endings." He muttered it over and over to himself like a mantra.

Then they heard it, buried in static but definitely identifiable. "Shuttlepod One, this is _Enterprise_. Please respond." Reed's eyes flew open at the sound.

"That's Hoshi!" Trip cried, incredulous. "That's impossible."

"Don't be so pessimistic! It's Hoshi! They're okay!" shouted Malcolm joyfully. He grabbed Trip's shoulders in his numbed hands and kissed the engineer squarely on the lips. "_Enterprise_ is okay! It's Hoshi!"

Caught in Malcolm's exuberance, Trip smiled broadly, kissed him in return. They held each other and laughed, listening jubilantly to the sound of Ensign Sato's voice over the comm. 

"Adjust your heading to the new coordinates," she said. "We will rendezvous in two days. Commander, Lieutenant, please respond."

"Rendezvous!" cried Reed. "What a beautiful word." But Hoshi's words had penetrated Tucker's liquor-soaked mind and he hung his head in despair. Malcolm looked at him, suddenly worried. "What's wrong?"

"They're still two days away."

Finally, slowly, Reed understood. "And we only have a little more than one day's air left."

"And no way to tell them to get here sooner."

*****

"We are transmitting new rendezvous coordinates. We were forced to change our heading due to an encounter with a micro-singularity. Shuttlepod One, this is _Enterprise_. Please respond." She'd been trying to contact the away team for nearly fifteen minutes and still had gotten no response. "Adjust your heading to the new coordinates. We will rendezvous in two days. Commander, Lieutenant, please respond." She transmitted the coordinates yet again.

She looked at Captain Archer. "Still no response, sir," she said regretfully.

"Keep trying, Ensign."

"Aye, sir." She returned to her task hoping this time she would get something in return.

Archer, unable to sit still for more than a moment at a time, crossed over to T'Pol at the science station. "Can you pick up any life signs?" he wanted to know.

"We're still too far away to tell," she replied. "I'm continuing to scan."

It was as close to concern as he'd ever seen her, and he appreciated it enough not to comment on it. Instead, he crossed the bridge to Tactical. "What have you got, Ensign?"

"Nothing new, I'm afraid, sir," Cormack answered reluctantly. "We're still a quarter of a light-year away. The shuttlepod's not much more than a blip on the screen."

The Captain nodded, tight-lipped. He knew his crew was doing everything they could, but there just wasn't enough information. He tried to convince himself that no news was good news, but it didn't work. He had a bad feeling about the situation although he had nothing on which to base it but gut reaction. 

"Sir!" exclaimed Mayweather suddenly. "They've changed course!"

"Confirmed," said Cormack. "They're headed to the new rendezvous coordinates."

With a sigh of relief, Hoshi paused in her hails. She took a moment to enjoy it, then continued to try to raise the shuttlepod.

"That still doesn't tell us why they aren't responding," said Archer, frustrated.

"It is logical to assume their comm system is malfunctioning," said T'Pol matter-of-factly. "It's entirely possible their transmitter was damaged while the receiver was not."

Archer couldn't argue with her. She was absolutely right. But it didn't make him feel any better. "Hoshi?"

"Still nothing, sir." At his disappointed look, she offered hopefully, "At least we know they're alive."

This time it was Cormack's turn to exclaim. "Sir! I'm picking up a fluctuation in the readings."

"Specify," the Captain said, hurrying back over to the tactical station.

"It looks like an explosion, sir."

Archer didn't want to ask it, but he had no choice. "The shuttlepod?"

"I'm not sure yet." Her hands flew over the board, gathering as much information as she could from the ship's long-range sensors. "No," she said finally. "They're still there, but something's not right."

"Ensign"

"They're still coming towards us but their trajectory is erratic. And I'm no longer reading the energy signature from their impulse engine."

Realization struck Archer like a duratanium beam. "They've blown up their engine," he said softly.

"Sir?" Stephanie asked, uncertain if she'd heard him correctly.

But he wasn't listening to her. "Travis, go to warp 3.5," he ordered, sitting in his command chair.

"Warp 3.5, aye," the ensign responded. He complied with the command, and _Enterprise_ increased speed.

"How long to the shuttle at current speed?"

"Sixteen hours and thirty-three minutes," replied T'Pol.

*****

Sixteen hours and thirty minutes later, Archer was back at his post. He'd tried to get some rest, do some work, do anything to fill the time until they reached the shuttlepod. He'd been unsuccessful at all of it.

"Life signs?" demanded Archer as they closed on the crippled shuttlepod.

"Two, but very weak," T'Pol answered from the science station.

Cormack looked up from her panel at Tactical. "They're in range of our grapplers now, Captain."

"Fire away and reel them in."

"Aye, sir."

"Hoshi, tell Doctor Phlox to get his team and meet me in the landing bay." He stood and moved quickly to the lift. "Sub-commander, you have the bridge."

He descended to the shuttle bay where he was met by the Denobulan physician and a team of four med-techs. They watched in silence as the pod was guided in by the grapplers and gently released. The bay doors quickly closed and the hangar began to repressurize. Automatic systems kicked in running the standard bioscan.

"They're clean of any microbes or foreign bodies," said Phlox, checking the sensors.

"Good."

A light flashed over the door to the landing bay's upper deck, signaling that it was now safe to enter. Archer did so, followed closely by Phlox and his team.

Archer released the seal on the pod's starboard door and a rush of freezing air surged out at him. He shivered involuntarily but climbed inside. There were Trip and Malcolm lying on the deckplating. They were huddled close together under the two blankets from the shuttlepod's standard emergency kit. Clearly, they had tried to contain and share their body heat before losing consciousness. He put one hand on Tucker's unshaven cheek and was shocked at the chill he felt there.

Phlox was next to him, though he hadn't noticed the doctor's approach. He knelt and ran his medical scanner over the two men.

"Are they—?"

"They're alive," the Denobulan said. "They're suffering from a severe case of hypothermia."

Archer checked the pod's environmental systems in an attempt to figure out what had happened. The med-techs, under Phlox's direction, carefully loaded the unconscious officers onto gurneys while the Captain worked. "They turned down the heat deliberately," he muttered to no one in particular. Then the mystery became clear. "The O-2 tank's been punctured. It's completely empty." He checked the back-up systems only to discover they'd recovered the team just in time. "They only had a few hours of air left."

"It's going to take some time to warm them up," said Phlox. "Their body temperatures are several degrees below what they should be. I'll contact you when they're ready for visitors." He looked at his team who were just securing the unconscious men to the gurneys. "Let's go."

Left alone, Archer continued to try and learn whatever he could from what remained of the shuttlepod. The hand scanner he carried revealed the two tiny hull breaches, patched with valve sealant. From the line of trajectory, he guessed it had been one micro-singularity that caused both holes and then continued out through the O-2 tank. More research revealed another micro-singularity had taken out the pod's sensors and comms.

He blew on his hands to warm them, the chill receding only slowly from the deep-frozen shuttlepod. He reached over and turned the heat back up to normal, wondering why he hadn't done so sooner. Stepping back from the panel, he nearly tripped over something in the chaos that cluttered the cabin. He reached down and picked up the empty whiskey bottle, chuckling a little. "I expect that helped keep them warm," he muttered. Then he became truly puzzled when he noticed the phase-pistol lying near by. "Should be an interesting story there." He picked it up and looked it over. It was still fully charged as when it had been placed on board, and it was set to stun. "Well that's encouraging."

Taking one last look around the pod, he shut off his scanner and stepped out into the landing bay. He'd learned all he could with what equipment he had on hand. He'd have to assign a team to go over the pod with a fine tooth comb—and a good long talk with Trip and Malcolm wouldn't hurt either.

He checked the time, surprised to discover he'd been working for over an hour, and even more surprised that he'd not been interrupted. Climbing the stairs to the upper level two at a time, he tucked his scanner into a pocket and headed for Sick Bay.

*****

Slowly, Reed's eyes fluttered open. He took in his surroundings with a gasp. "We're back," he said, his voice husky from the prolonged time in the cold. "How did?" He tried to sit up, only to be pushed gently but firmly back down by the Captain's strong hand.

"Easy, Malcolm," Archer said. "You fellows had a nice little bout with hypothermia."

"Trip?" he asked desperately.

"He's going to be fine," Archer answered. He looked over his shoulder to where Phlox stood by the sleeping commander's bedside, sought confirmation of his claim.

The doctor nodded. "It took nearly three hours to get your body temperatures back to normal." He sounded almost scolding, but Archer put it down to the Denobulan's alien speech patterns.

"You must have seen the explosion," said Reed with a tired sigh.

"Hard to miss. You know, you guys only had two or three hours of air left."

Malcolm took in this information and gave the smallest of ironic smiles. "You don't say." Then memories surfaced and he said, "We saw debris from _Enterprise_ on one of the asteroids. We assumed We thought you were all" He fought back tears at the memory, not wanting to lose control in front of his Captain, but nearly overcome with so many different emotions he could barely contain them all. Unable to complete the sentence, he merely shook his head.

Recognizing the need to rescue him from an outburst the younger man wasn't prepared to face, Archer said, "I'll tell you all about it in the morning. Right now, you and Trip need to get some rest." He patted the lieutenant on the shoulder, offering what comfort he could.

Reed gave him a small but appreciative nod at the unspoken understanding. 

"Good night, Lieutenant," Archer said, and departed.

Doctor Phlox followed him to the door, dimming the lights so his patients could sleep.

Left alone, Malcolm looked over to the nearby bio-bed where Tucker was sound asleep. He wanted to reach out and touch him, confirm that this was real and they were home. But he simply didn't have the energy to move.

"Trip?" he asked quietly, knowing he'd get no response from the sleeping engineer. "Sleep well, my love." He closed his eyes and drifted off to the soft hum of the medical equipment and the steady sound of Trip's breathing.

*****

End Log 18  
_(Completed 6 March 02)_

Continued in Log 19


	19. Log 19

Log 19: (Takes place after Shuttlepod One and before and during the events of Fusion.) (Completed 22 March 02)  
  
*****  
  
The lights of the room were dimmed in testament to the lateness of the hour. It didn't bother the five people who sat at a table in a secluded corner by the windows. They looked on intensely as one of their number spoke.  
  
"So this.hephestium? It's in the asteroids, and that's what's disrupting our sensors?" asked the narrow-faced young man.  
  
"Correct," the brunette woman at the end of the table replied.  
  
The blonde at the opposite end spoke up. "Is it having any effect on our weapons?" she asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Is there any way we can modify our sensors to function through the interference?" the man spoke again.  
  
"Possibly. Who's going to give it a try?" The brunette eyed them all as they leaned their heads together over the table, muttering quietly and comparing notes.  
  
They reached a conclusion. "Unk and Rust are going to work on it together," said Novakovitch firmly.  
  
"And Barbarella is taking over the comms while they do that," put in Lawless quickly.  
  
"And Kiki has one eye on the sensors-for what it's worth," added Cormack. They'd been caught out before by a surprise attack while no one was watching-a product of her own dismal luck quotient. She would have gladly sacrificed some of her dexterity to bolster her luck, but Liz hadn't allowed it. You rolled your character and took what you got, she'd told Stephanie; it was part of the game.  
  
"Okay," said Cutler, game face unwavering. "Ethan, give me your intelligence and luck quotients combined. And Travis, the same from you."  
  
"Eleven," answered Ethan promptly.  
  
"Fifteen," said Travis.  
  
The Game Master handed three six-sided dice to Novakovitch. "Roll."  
  
"Do I want high or low?" he asked, taking the dice.  
  
"High."  
  
He nodded, shook the dice between cupped palms and tossed them out on the tabletop. They rolled to a stop and he added them up. "Fourteen," he announced triumphantly.  
  
Liz collected the dice and added a four-sided to the mix before passing them over to Travis. "Roll."  
  
"High?" Mayweather asked.  
  
"High."  
  
He shook them in one long-fingered hand and tossed them on the table. "Nineteen."  
  
"In that case." Liz checked her notes. ".not only do you manage to modify your sensors to screen out the hephestium, in doing so you've increased their general efficiency by six percent." She kept her face impassive but inside she was shaking her head. Travis seemed to have a magic touch with the dice that evening. Everything she'd thrown his way he'd managed to turn to his, and consequently the team's, advantage. It was worrying her that the game might be getting too easy for them.  
  
Time for another sneak attack? she pondered, but decided against it. Too obvious and too soon after the last one. At their current rate, they'd find their target before long. They would still have to figure out how to rescue the group, but that was only half the fun as far as she was concerned. Liz had been patient thus far, not wanting to let the joke go too soon. Mae had stressed how practical jokes were so much more fun when they were so very unexpected.  
  
"Am I getting anything on sensors now?" Cormack asked, breaking her bunkmate's train of thought.  
  
Cutler glanced at her notes. "You're not, but Unk is."  
  
Cormack nodded. Unk had the highest luck quotient; it made sense he'd be the one to find what they were looking for.  
  
"So what am I seeing?" Mayweather asked.  
  
"An energy signature for a damaged warp engine and five life signs."  
  
"Great. Transferring the coordinates to the helm."  
  
"In that case," put in Cormack, "I'm laying in the course. Any more nasty surprises ahead of us?"  
  
The GM considered her decision carefully. "You'll just have to wait and see."  
  
"Great."  
  
Novakovitch and Lawless had been consulting in the meantime. "I'm taking over at the comm," announced Ethan. "If we're finally going to talk to these people, we should have someone intelligent do it."  
  
"Hey!" protested Mae, although she knew he was only teasing. "Barbarella may not be smart, but she can lift heavy things!"  
  
The others laughed and Liz bit back a comment on how handy that would be when they met up with their objective. "So." She turned to Novakovitch. "Are you doing anything at the comm?"  
  
"I'm hailing them," he answered, mimicking her tone.  
  
"In that case, you're getting a response. A male voice says, 'This is passenger transport Royal Albert requesting immediate assistance. Our pilot is injured. Engines are off line, and life support is failing. Please respond.'" She looked at Ethan expectantly.  
  
At that moment, Travis spoke up. "Hang on, everyone," he said. "It's time to call it a night." There were various protests from the other players. "Hey, you made me the timekeeper. I'm just giving you the facts."  
  
"He's right," Cormack begrudgingly agreed. "I cannot afford another night like last time. Especially with Lieutenant Reed back on duty tomorrow."  
  
"Crap. I forgot about that," said Lawless. She was already on her feet. "I have a status report to finish before tomorrow. It's due in to Commander Tucker at 0800." She picked up her datapad, making sure her record of all the events of the evening's gaming session were safely stored before shutting it off. The other players and the GM did likewise.  
  
"So, are we on for tomorrow?" Cutler asked.  
  
Travis gave her a funny look. "No. Movie night tomorrow. Remember?"  
  
She and Travis were supposed to have a date for dinner and the movie. She'd completely forgotten. "Sorry! I lost track of what day it was," she admitted.  
  
"Let's just plan the next session for Monday," said Stephanie. "That sound good?"  
  
"Sure," agreed Liz quickly.  
  
"Works for me," said Mae.  
  
Cormack turned to Mayweather and Novakovitch. "Guys?"  
  
"Fine by me," Ethan readily replied.  
  
"Yeah, that's fine." Mayweather hadn't looked away from Cutler who was looking a little apprehensive.  
  
Cormack gave her bunkmate an inquisitive glance. "You coming, Liz?"  
  
"I'll catch up."  
  
"Okay." She turned to go, accompanied by Ethan and Mae.  
  
Left alone in the half-light of the mess hall, Liz returned Travis's gaze evenly. "I'm sorry I forgot about our date. But, no harm done, right?" she added cheerfully. "If I'd forgotten tomorrow.that would have been a problem."  
  
"Yeah. Like last time?"  
  
Cutler sighed. "How many times do I have to apologize for that? It was a busy week in my department. I was exhausted, and it slipped my mind. Can we please let it go?"  
  
The helmsman shrugged noncommittally. "Sure. Whatever."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"If it were nothing, you wouldn't have brought it up." She looked at him, saying gently, "Travis, If you don't tell me when something's wrong, how am I supposed to try to fix it?"  
  
"Do you even want to?" he asked sullenly.  
  
"How can you even ask that?" She was beginning to get irritated.  
  
"How many other dates have you forgotten and then remembered at the last moment? It just makes me wonder where I fit in your list of priorities."  
  
"You know what? I'm not having this conversation right now. I care about you, and I care about our relationship. I admit it's not been perfect up to now, but no relationship ever is. The point is that if it's worth having, it's worth working at. So when you're ready to talk about this like an adult instead of a sulky teenager, you know where to find me." She brushed past him and out the door, leaving Mayweather standing in petulant silence.  
  
It was a short walk back to her cabin, and she was still fuming when she arrived. Cormack was there and already in her pajamas. She was standing at the computer desk, reading as she brushed her teeth. At Cutler's expression, Stephanie quickly stepped back to the lav and rinsed out her mouth.  
  
"What happened?" she asked.  
  
Liz was emptying her uniform's many pockets and didn't look up. "Nothing," she said, knowing it wouldn't satisfy her bunkmate any more than it had satisfied her when Travis said it.  
  
As ever, Stephanie's response was more direct than her own had been. "Bullshit. Tell me what's wrong." She sat on her bunk and waited.  
  
There was a long pause as Cutler methodically put away her things. Finally, she sat and pulled off her boots. "Please explain to me why, despite my better judgment, I decided to date a fellow crewmember."  
  
"Because that's all there is on board?"  
  
Liz responded with a glare. "Funny."  
  
"Sorry. Can I try again?" At Cutler's neutral shrug, she continued. "How about because he's a good guy and you wanted someone to be with?"  
  
"Maybe," Liz begrudged. "He is a good guy, it's just that sometimes he seems so.young."  
  
"He's a man."  
  
This time she got a sardonic smile in response. "True."  
  
Unexpectedly, the door chimed. The women looked at each other. "I'm not expecting anyone," said Cormack.  
  
"I have a guess it might be for me." Liz stood and stepped to the door. She opened it to reveal a somewhat contrite looking Mayweather. "Hello," she said coolly.  
  
"Umm." His eyes flickered uncertainly past Liz to Stephanie who had risen and was now standing unintrusively but obviously behind her bunkmate. Travis quickly looked back at Liz. "Can I talk to you? " he asked hesitantly.  
  
"Of course. " Cutler didn't move from her position in the open doorway.  
  
"In private?" Cormack raised an eyebrow, frowning. Mayweather caught the look out of the corner of his eye and added quickly, "Just for a minute."  
  
Unaware of the silent exchange Liz stepped toward him, forcing him back out into the corridor. She let the door shut behind her. "All right, talk."  
  
"I just.want to apologize," he said contritely. "I guess I overreacted a little."  
  
Cutler wanted to protest the "little," but she refrained.  
  
"I'm just not real good at this whole thing. I.don't have a lot of practice." He was fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He wouldn't meet Liz's steady gaze.  
  
Then it dawned on her. "Travis, am I your first girlfriend?" she asked softly.  
  
"No!" he quickly protested. "Well, not.exactly."  
  
She waited patiently. Eventually, Travis continued.  
  
"There's not a lot of.social contact when you're on a freighter run. There were other kids on the ship, but when you grow up together like that, it's more like extended family and you don't.you know." He left the sentence unfinished, his implication clear. "We'd occasionally meet up with other ships and trade information, supplies, sometimes just company. It was always fun to hear a new story from someone." His face lit up momentarily at the memory. "It could get pretty dull listening to the adults tell the same stories again and again. Anyway, I met a few girls that way, growing up. But it was never anything that lasted. You'd just have time to make a friend, then one or the other of you would have to go."  
  
There was silence as what he said sank in. When Liz spoke, it was quietly. "I guess I should have thought of that." At his startled look, she added, "That you were so isolated growing up."  
  
"It was different when I got to Starfleet training, but." He trailed off, not certain of what he meant to say.  
  
"Didn't anyone catch your eye there?" Liz asked, gently teasing. "You're a handsome guy. Surely they were lined up around the block for such a catch."  
  
"Well, of course." He gave her a grin, his old cheerfulness and confidence slowly returning. "I mean, there were a couple." Then the uncertainty returned. "But the point is, you're the first woman I've ever felt like this about. And I guess I don't quite know what to do."  
  
"I don't know what to tell you. Every relationship is different, and all you can do is hope you don't make the same mistakes twice."  
  
"That's not real comforting," Travis said.  
  
"I know. But it's the best I can do." There was another silence as they regarded each other. It was Liz who broke it. "You should go. It's late."  
  
Travis nodded. "Are we still on for tomorrow?" he asked doubtfully.  
  
Cutler smiled. "Of course. Just because we had an argument doesn't mean you're getting out of our date," she joked and was rewarded with a bright smile from the helmsman.  
  
"Okay. Good. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
She reached up and pulled him into a tender good-night kiss. "Sweet dreams," she said, and slipped back inside her quarters.  
  
Cormack was waiting impatiently for her. The door had barely shut when she spoke up. "So?"  
  
"Better," answered Cutler with a smile.  
  
"Good."  
  
*****  
  
Lieutenant Reed was in good form that morning. He smiled as he entered the Armory, surprising one or two crewmen with what was for him exuberance.  
  
"Good morning, Lieutenant!" said Cormack cheerfully, noting the smile on his normally more impassive visage.  
  
"Good morning yourself," he replied, approaching her. "You're unusually jocund this morning."  
  
"Look who's talking. You're hardly Lieutenant Stoic, yourself. You're looking a lot better than when I checked in on you in sickbay."  
  
"I slept well." He smiled again, thinking just why he had slept so well.  
  
"I had two lattés," Stephanie announced buoyantly.  
  
They exchanged a laugh, once again surprising the few crewmen in the room. "All right, fill me in on what I've missed the past few days."  
  
Cormack handed him a datapad. "There's a status report. Otherwise, there's not much to tell you. It's been pretty routine around here."  
  
He took the datapad and glanced at it. "That's good news."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He caught something in her tone he couldn't quite identify. "What is it?"  
  
"Just thinking about Engineering. I don't think Commander Tucker's going to be quite as happy this morning."  
  
*****  
  
Trip felt his good mood rapidly disappearing. "The whole door?" he exclaimed.  
  
"I'm afraid so, Commander," replied Lieutenant Hess.  
  
"How long before we're going to have to get the Captain to drop us out of warp for the install?"  
  
"A day and a half."  
  
"All right. I'll look over your report and let him know. Maybe we can find something interesting for astrometrics to investigate before we have to slow down. If we can keep the Captain busy, it'll keep him out of our hair," he said, only half joking.  
  
"Yes, sir," Hess replied evenly. She returned to oversee the team working on the new launch bay door.  
  
Lawless entered Engineering and made a beeline for Tucker. "Good morning, Commander," she said.  
  
"Mornin', Mae," he answered in something less than his usual chipper tone.  
  
She noted the difference and proceeded more cautiously. "Everything okay, sir?"  
  
"Just this whole thing with the launch bay door," he said scanning the information Lieutenant Hess had provided. "I'm beginning to wish I hadn't gotten out of bed this morning." There was more truth in his statement than the ensign could have guessed. He sighed.  
  
"This might cheer you up," she offered, holding out a datapad. "It's my status report. I think I've found a way to increase the efficiency of the plasma constrictors."  
  
"That sure does improve my morning." Trip took the datapad, setting the one from Hess on the workstation counter. Slowly, as he skimmed the document, his good mood returned. "Great work, Mae. This looks real promising."  
  
Lawless practically beamed. "Thank you, Commander."  
  
"I'll let you know when I've had a chance to read it through."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
*****  
  
Trip was in luck when it came to distracting Captain Archer. In a meeting with the captain that afternoon, he learned they were scheduled to begin study of the Arachnid Nebula in just two days.  
  
"Perfect," the engineer said with a smile. "We should have that door installed long before the folks in astrometrics are done mapping that thing."  
  
"How's the work coming on that?" Archer asked.  
  
"Proceeding apace, as Malcolm would say," quipped Tucker.  
  
Archer gave him an odd look. "Would he?"  
  
"Sure. Haven't you heard him say that?"  
  
"No." Jon considered his old friend surreptitiously over the datapad he was reviewing. The document was something to do with the plasma constrictors, but he could focus on it in detail later. Meantime, it occurred to him to wonder just what had passed between his Chief Engineer and his Armory Officer while they were stranded in Shuttlepod One. He'd received reports from both of them that explained much of the technical side of the trip. Putting that together with what T'Pol had learned about the micro-singularities, he had a full account of what had happened.  
  
On the personal front, though, he still had questions. He could only imagine what it was like for them: believing Enterprise and her crew to be lost; believing they would die in only a few short days, drifting so many light-years from home. He'd faced death on more than one occasion, but never like that. To see it laid out in front of one, seemingly inevitable- what must it have been like? There were questions he sincerely wanted to ask, but it was outside possibility. Whatever had transpired between the officers was their business and theirs alone. Should either of them choose to discuss it with him, he would feel honored to be so trusted.  
  
"This looks promising," Archer said, indicating the datapad.  
  
"That's what I said," agreed Trip. "I was thinking that while we explore that nebula might be a good time to work on the modifications. We won't be needing the warp engines right then anyway."  
  
"Sounds good to me." This time when the captain regarded the engineer, it was directly. "So," he began almost cautiously, "how are you doing?"  
  
"Captain?" replied Trip. The sudden serious tone in Archer's voice made him wary.  
  
"After what you and Malcolm went through, I just wondered how you're doing."  
  
Trip realized his apprehension was unwarranted. Jon was his friend as well as his Captain; his concern was natural, and Tucker appreciated it. "Good. I'm not saying we didn't have some nightmare moments, but I'm doing pretty okay."  
  
"How about Malcolm?"  
  
He gave a small shrug. "You'd have to ask him, but I think he's doing fine, too." It was an opportunity. Trip's mind spun, trying to decide if it was an opportunity he wanted to take.  
  
He decided it wasn't. He wanted to, and he knew he could trust Jon with his life-it was just that Trip and Malcolm had agreed to keep things quiet for the time being. Their relationship as it now stood was too new to share. Tucker was still uncertain how long it would last or where it would take them. He knew what he wanted, but with his history the last thing he needed was to get his hopes up too high. To go shouting out his happiness to anyone, even Jon, might curse it. He couldn't take that chance. Damn, Trip, he thought. And you called Malcolm a pessimist? I think I should apologize for that. He smiled a little, considering possible "apologies."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," Archer said. "But if you ever need to talk to someone."  
  
"I know." Trip gave him an appreciative and understanding nod. "Thanks, Captain."  
  
"All right. Well." Archer shifted the conversation back to a more professional note. ".if that's everything, you're dismissed."  
  
"See you at the movie tonight?" Tucker asked as he stood.  
  
"I don't think so. I've got a lot of reports to go over. Thanks for adding to the stack, by the way," he said ironically, indicating Lawless's report on the plasma constrictors.  
  
"Always happy to lend a hand," Trip answered with a devilish grin.  
  
"Remind me why I hired you?"  
  
"I think I've overstayed my welcome. Excuse me." The engineer made a hasty exit, but not without shooting one more smirk over his shoulder at his friend.  
  
*****  
  
"You going to the movie tonight?"  
  
"I'm thinking not."  
  
"Really? But it's Casablanca. I thought you loved that film."  
  
"I do. I'm just not up for it tonight." Cormack took a bite of mashed potatoes, savored the hot, buttery flavor. "No one does garlic mashers quite like Chef," she said, sighing appreciatively.  
  
"Mm-hmm," agreed Lawless. "Good thing neither of us has a date tonight."  
  
"Too true. Never thought I'd be happy about that."  
  
"So how come you're not going to the movie?"  
  
"I just feel like staying in tonight. Besides, Griffith loaned me a copy of Portrait of the Artist. I haven't read it since high school, and somehow I'm just in the mood for it."  
  
"That's a bad sign. Any time you're 'just in the mood' for James Joyce, something must be seriously wrong," Mae wisecracked.  
  
"Some of us happen to like James Joyce," Stephanie gibed back. A movement across the mess hall caught her eye, and she glanced over.  
  
"What?" said Mae, looking over her shoulder in the same direction. Travis and Liz had just entered, holding hands and laughing. "Oh. Looks like they're past whatever was bugging Travis last night." She turned her attention away from the couple.  
  
"Yeah. I don't know what it was about, but he stopped by our cabin to talk to Liz after the game broke up last night."  
  
"Huh."  
  
Cormack, too, returned to her meal. She took a bite of meatloaf. "What is it about meatloaf and mashed potatoes?" she said with another happy sigh.  
  
"Comfort food," replied Lawless, enjoying her own. "My dad always made great meatloaf when my brother and I were kids."  
  
"My mom made lousy meatloaf, and she always whipped the potatoes too much for my taste."  
  
"Then maybe you just like them."  
  
"Nah. That's too easy," argued Stephanie lightly. She was enjoying the friendly banter. "It must be some sort of deep psychological need. Or maybe race memory."  
  
"What race would that be? My ancestors were from Japan, and yours were from Ireland," Mae pointed out over a forkful of potatoes.  
  
"Good point. How about the Human race?"  
  
Lawless tipped her head toward a far table. "Then explain Doctor Phlox." The Denobulan had made the same dinner choice they had and appeared to be enjoying it just as much as, if not more than, they were.  
  
"You win. It's comfort food." Stephanie smiled.  
  
They ate in silence for a while, listening to the random quiet chatter of the people around them. There was an occasional burst of laughter from one table or another, and folks would glance up curiously and return to their meals. All in all, another quiet night for the Enterprise crew.  
  
"You sure you don't want to go to the movie?" Mae asked. "Ingrid Bergman beats out James Joyce anytime, in my opinion."  
  
"Hmm. It is Bergman, isn't it?" she asked rhetorically. Cormack considered her options. "What the hell? James will still be there tomorrow."  
  
*****  
  
This time Trip had come prepared. He had a number of tissues stashed in the pocket of his jeans. He was bound to need them; it was an Ingrid Bergman film. First, though, he felt he should warn his date.  
  
"Look," he said quietly as they made their way to the ship's Rec. Center, "there's something I should tell you."  
  
A bit concerned at the tone of his voice, Malcolm looked at him. "What?" he asked, trying to hide his trepidation.  
  
"I always cry at Ingrid Bergman movies."  
  
Reed stopped in his tracks. "What?" he asked again, this time in disbelief.  
  
"I know it's goofy," said Trip, coming to a quick halt beside him. "It's just.she always gets me. I thought I should warn you before we get in there."  
  
Malcolm tried not to smile, but he couldn't help it. It was just so damned endearing.  
  
"Aw, now you're going to laugh at me, aren't you?" Tucker asked, a little embarrassed.  
  
"No, I'm not." Reed fought to school his expression but failed once again. He noticed the flush starting to color the engineer's cheeks. "I'm not laughing at you," he said sincerely, finally getting his facial muscles under control. "I just didn't know you were that kind of guy." Now the color in Trip's cheeks darkened, and Malcolm realized his words hadn't sounded as he'd intended. "I mean," he added hastily, "it's not important. It's just a surprise. That's all. I think it's charming." He paused suddenly as a group of crewmen passed by, also heading for Rec. Center. When he continued, it was in a more subdued voice. "I've.never cried at a movie. Never let myself, really. Frankly, the idea scares me."  
  
Tucker started, but had to hold his response as more people passed them. Finally, the corridor was clear once more. "What do you mean, it scares you?"  
  
Another interruption, and then Reed spoke again. "Let's not talk about it here," he said. "It's a bit like Heathrow at the moment."  
  
"You're going to explain later, though. Right?" Trip was curious and very puzzled by Malcolm's confession. He just couldn't wrap his brain around it. What was scary about crying at a movie? Especially one starring the naturally heartbreaking Ingrid Bergman? his mind added defensively.  
  
The tactical officer shrugged. "Sure. But it's stupid, really," he added self-deprecatingly.  
  
"No, it's not," Trip was quick to say. "Nothing about you is stupid. Stubborn, sure. Irritating, occasionally. But never stupid." He finished off his short list with a grin and was rewarded with one of Malcolm's subtle smiles. "Come on," the engineer said easily. "Or all the good seats'll be gone."  
  
*****  
  
The crowd broke up slowly, some to go on Gamma-shift duty, but most to turn in for the night. Stephanie lost sight of Liz fairly quickly; the exobiologist and her date disappeared almost immediately after the movie's credits rolled. She wondered idly if she'd see her bunkmate again that night. A sly smile crossed her lips.  
  
Suddenly, Lawless grabbed her arm, startling her from her thoughts. "What the hell?" exclaimed Cormack.  
  
"Shh!"  
  
The pair remained seated while those around them stood and filed out of the Rec. Center. Stephanie tried to see what had caught her friend's attention in such a potent fashion, but could make out nothing extraordinary in the scene.  
  
"What?" she asked finally.  
  
Nearly everyone had left, and the two of them still sitting there was beginning to look odd. The steward in charge of post-show clean up gave her an unobtrusive but inquisitive glance. She returned it with an equally baffled look and a one-shouldered shrug.  
  
At last Mae released her grip, shaking her head. "Nothing," she said.  
  
"Nothing? I'm going to be bruised for a week and it's for 'nothing'?" Stephanie asked less angrily than her words implied.  
  
"Sorry. I just thought I saw something.but I think I must have imagined it. Let's go." She stood, followed closely by Cormack.  
  
"What was it?" the blonde woman asked as they left the Rec. Center to the care of the steward.  
  
"Nothing important. It just surprised me is all. And like I said, I probably just imagined it."  
  
"Imagined what?"  
  
"Doesn't matter."  
  
"Mae." There was a definite note of threat in Cormack's voice.  
  
Lawless stopped, took a cautious look up and down the corridor. Assured they were quite alone, she said in an undertone, "This'll sound crazy, but." Another furtive glance. ".for a second, I could have sworn Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed were. No. It's stupid," she concluded in a more normal tone. She shook her head, embarrassed.  
  
"Must I beat it out of you?" Cormack inquired politely. She hadn't seen anything unusual herself, but she knew the men were trying to keep their relationship under wraps. If Lawless had seen something, others might have as well. It was imperative she know what it was-in case she needed to be ready to squelch rumors.  
  
"Fine. It looked like they were holding hands. Satisfied?"  
  
"Really?" Cormack added just a touch of skepticism to her voice. She shrugged dismissively. "Weird."  
  
"Exactly. I must have imagined it," the engineer reiterated emphatically.  
  
"You want to get a drink?" asked Stephanie, picking the first and easiest change of topic to come into her head. She had the information she wanted; it was time to move on.  
  
"You buying again?" queried Mae.  
  
Cormack gave her a mock exasperated sigh. "I suppose," she drawled. The two laughed. "Come on. I hear a Cosmopolitan crying out your name."  
  
*****  
  
"So, are you.coming in?"  
  
"Well, after so gracious an invitation."  
  
Trip hung his head and smiled wryly. Looking Malcolm in the eye, he asked graciously, "Would you like to come in?"  
  
Reed chuckled low. "Yes, please," he answered with a smile.  
  
Tucker opened the door to his cabin, and the two went in. "Have a seat," the engineer said. Reed did-on the bunk. Trip crossed his arms and stood with his back to the closed door. He scrutinized the lieutenant, his head tilted to one side.  
  
It wasn't long before the silence and the look became too much for Malcolm. "What is it?" he asked against his better judgment.  
  
"You going to tell me about what you said earlier?"  
  
Reed was confused. "What did I say?"  
  
"About not letting yourself cry at movies," prompted the engineer. He'd gone through most of the tissue he'd brought, and now he wanted to know how his lover had managed to stay dry-eyed through the whole film.  
  
"Oh! That."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
Reed realized he was trapped. Normally, he wouldn't have minded. The surroundings were comfortable and the company certainly amenable, but. "I'd forgotten about that," he stalled.  
  
"Uh-huh." This time it was laced with skepticism.  
  
In fact, he had forgotten his earlier admission. "No, honestly," he protested.  
  
Malcolm thought back on the evening. While Trip sat next to him silently weeping a veritable fountain for the characters on the screen, he had remained.not unmoved, but undemonstrative. He'd agreed to explain. Apparently, Tucker felt now was a good time.  
  
"You remember now, right?" The younger man was gentle but relentless.  
  
Malcolm could hardly deny it. "Yes."  
  
Trip waited in patient silence.  
  
"All right. It's not that important, really," he said dismissively. A quick glance at Trip showed he didn't believe him. "I just don't.share my emotions very readily. You know that-probably better than anyone."  
  
"That's not really an answer," Trip said. He uncrossed his arms and sat on the bunk next to Malcolm. "They're just movies. Why's it such a big deal?"  
  
Reed looked at him, lips pursed in irony. "That's my question, too."  
  
Trip relented. "Okay, okay. Forget I brought it up," he said shortly. He stood. Malcolm rose, too. The engineer eyed him for several seconds. "Were you going somewhere?"  
  
"You. I thought.you wanted me to go."  
  
"Why would you think that?" Tucker was truly surprised.  
  
"They way you spoke just now," continued a confused Reed. "You sounded.angry."  
  
Tucker realized his mistake. He shook his head. "I'm not angry, Malcolm. I'm a little frustrated, maybe. I did say you can be frustrating at times," he teased lightly.  
  
"Actually, I believe the word you used was 'irritating'," the tactical officer said dryly. "And stubborn."  
  
"And stubborn!" Trip latched onto the word. He'd tried lightening the mood, and it hadn't worked. Fine, he thought. "I was just trying to learn a little more about you, Malcolm. I might know more than most people, but that doesn't mean I know a lot. I'm still trying to figure you out," he continued more gently. "So far, the more I've learned, the more I love you. I don't expect that to change-no matter what I end up finding out."  
  
Malcolm was struck dumb. Only the little voice in his head was coherent enough to react. Didn't see that coming, did you? it asked, already knowing the answer. Eventually, his voice caught up with his thoughts.almost. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be sorry," said Trip sincerely. "I'm not mad. I just don't want to be shut out, you know?"  
  
He was right, of course. Reed couldn't deny it; he was falling into an all too familiar pattern. Wasn't that the problem with every other partner you've ever had? his mind pointed out.  
  
Not every one, he argued with himself. His thoughts leapt to one in particular.  
  
No, the little voice said bitingly, you didn't push him away did you?  
  
It was a little late for that, he spat back.  
  
Unaware of the bitter dialogue going on in Malcolm's head, Trip simply waited. He watched Reed, who continued to stand there in indecisive silence. Finally, he could stand the silence no more.  
  
"Malcolm." Reed started, drawn back out of himself. Tucker caught his gaze and held it. "What's going on?" he asked pointedly.  
  
The dark-haired man shook his head a little to clear it. "Memories," he said after a pause.  
  
"You want to tell me?"  
  
The temptation was huge, and Malcolm almost gave in to it. Trip could see it in his eyes; then he saw the moment pass. Reed shook his head sadly. "No." It was a solemn, low sound.  
  
Tucker gave a short nod. Give him time, he told himself. He'll tell you when he's ready. It wasn't easy. When he saw a problem, his instinct was to try and fix it-it was part of what made him such a good engineer. But sometimes forbearance was the best choice. He'd made enough mistakes in his life to finally learn that he couldn't just plunge into a human problem like he could an engineering one.  
  
"Okay," he said. "So what do you want to do now?" There was no anger in his voice-just a gentle inquiry.and an offer.  
  
Hoping he'd heard right, Malcolm said, "I'd like to stay." It was more request than statement.  
  
"Good," answered Trip tenderly. "Because I don't want you to be alone any more."  
  
*****  
  
Tucker had known the next week would be a busy one-he just hadn't figured on it being this busy. He was sitting at an engineering console trying to prioritize everything that had to be done. It was a normal Monday morning process, but ordinarily it was only his own ship he was dealing with. The arrival of the Vahklas was a serious spanner in the works of what'd planned to do that week. At least we got that launch bay door taken care of, he thought. But so much for working on the plasma constrictors.  
  
He was glad he'd not been invited to dinner with the captain of the Vulcan ship. Archer and T'Pol had hosted him and his second in command the previous evening. Tucker shook his head in sympathy for what he guessed must have been a particularly tedious evening for his old friend. He himself had been lucky enough to have dinner and a quiet evening with Malcolm instead. Definitely much more fun. He smiled as he thought back on it.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Startled, the commander looked up into the face of Ensign Lawless. "Mae," he said, "what is it?"  
  
"I have the results of that diagnostic you asked for on the Vahklas's propulsion systems." She handed him a datapad with the information.  
  
Trip took it and skimmed the data. "Man. What a mess." He gave a sigh of resignation. "It's like something out of the Starfleet training programs. You remember those 'worst-case scenarios' they like to test you with?"  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Lawless without enthusiasm.  
  
"Guess we better get to work. The Vulcan engineer is supposed to be here any minute. Might as well go meet him at the gate."  
  
Even having been warned that these weren't normal Vulcans-T'Pol called them V'tosh ka'tur, "Vulcans without logic"-he wasn't prepared for the smiling, round-faced man who came aboard.  
  
"I'm Kov," the man said pleasantly. "I'm Chief Engineer aboard the Vahklas. Are you Commander Tucker?"  
  
"Yeah," answered Trip, pulling himself together after the initial shock. He held out a hand. "Pleased to meet you."  
  
Kov looked at the outstretched limb curiously before realization seemed to strike him. "Of course! I've heard of this custom." He took Trip's hand and shook it firmly-a little too firmly for Trip's liking.  
  
Disengaging himself from Vulcan's firm grasp, he tried to discreetly massage the feeling back into his fingers. "Please follow me," he said, and led the way to Main Engineering.  
  
*****  
  
In the Armory, Lieutenant Reed was conducting a brief staff meeting.  
  
"Ensign Young," he said to the ginger-haired man, "there are still a number of people on the crew who haven't been checked out on the phase-pistols. I know we don't have many of them, but I want every person on this ship to know how to use one. You never know when it might be necessary, and it will minimize the possibility of accidents. I've compiled a list of everyone who hasn't yet been cleared." He handed Young a datapad. "I want to you to start making this list shorter. I know it's going to take some time, but get a team to assist you. I want everyone cleared as soon as possible. I've already gotten Captain Archer's okay for you to use the Rec. Center for training."  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Young.  
  
Reed turned to Cormack. "I have another project for you. I've been working on analyzing the data Commander Tucker and the engineering teams brought back from the Estvali vessel. I'm hoping we can use the information to create our own energy barrier similar to the ones they used. You were there a lot." Only Stephanie was attuned enough to Malcolm's moods to recognize the subtle undercurrent of irony in this statement. "I'm hoping your memory of the time you spent there will help shed some light on it."  
  
"Yes, sir," Cormack answered.  
  
"All right. Any questions?"  
  
"Sir?" spoke up Young.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You want everyone cleared on the phase-pistols?" he asked uneasily.  
  
"You can skip Porthos," replied the lieutenant so dryly that Cormack didn't think Young caught the joke. "Otherwise, I want everyone."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Anything else?" There wasn't. "Dismissed."  
  
Young turned and departed, desperately trying to figure out how he was going to convince Chef to take time away from his precious galley long enough to learn how to use a phase-pistol. He mentally put the reputedly temperamental man at the bottom of the list.  
  
Reed turned to the Armory's main station. "Come take a look at what I have so far," he said to Cormack. She joined him at the console. "I've had to give up trying to decipher the scans you took when you were in their holding cell."  
  
"I'm not surprised," said Stephanie. "I was amazed we actually managed to record anything." The force field that had kept her and the rest of the away team confined to the cell had been set on some sort of fluctuating frequency. It had taken an enhanced prototype scanner Commander Tucker and Sub-commander T'Pol had designed to register even that much information on the barrier.  
  
"Instead, I believe we're going to have better luck with the scans of the containment fields they used in their engineering section and throughout the ship," Reed continued. "Despite the limited scanning times, there appears to be more solid data there."  
  
"I agree." Cormack had gone to a lot of trouble getting much of that data. The Estvali guarded their technology with a tight fist; she'd only been able to manage the occasional surreptitious scan of various equipment and systems while the engineers worked. Any protracted scans would surely have set off alarms on the technologically advanced ship.  
  
"I'm sure Commander Tucker's priority would be on the information you got on their warp engines," Reed said dryly, "but I'm intrigued by these force fields. They seems to function like the one our team encountered on Rigel 10." He called up the data. "I've collected the data from the different scans you and the other members of the away team were able to collect while you were on the alien ship. I'm not positive, but there appear to be a number of different energy signatures here."  
  
Cormack examined the screen intently. It had been several weeks since she'd seen any of the data from the time they'd worked with the Estvali; it took a minute to refresh her memory. "You're right," she said at last. "I wonder if they were running at different levels of intensity?"  
  
"You mean a higher level of containment in one area than another?"  
  
Stephanie nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
"That would be useful," muttered Reed appreciatively. He leaned in next to her. Tapping several buttons on the console, he called up two sets of figures and ran them side by side on the screen. He pointed to the one on the left. "This one was taken in engineering at what Trip said was their warp core. This one." He indicated the data on the right. ".you took when you were in their sickbay."  
  
"I recognize it. That was a challenge to get," she added to herself, remembering.  
  
Reed caught the comment out of the corner of his ear. "What were you doing in their sickbay, anyway?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Burned my hand. Kind of accidentally on purpose, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Why?" He was surprised and puzzled.  
  
"To get a look at their medical equipment," answered Cormack matter-of- factly.  
  
The lieutenant regarded her with a furrowed brow. "That was a dangerous way to go about it."  
  
She shrugged lightly. "It seemed the most expedient way at the time."  
  
Reed let the matter drop for the moment. He hadn't personally observed any self-destructive behavior on Stephanie's part, but this information bore remembering. The last thing he wanted was a security officer who tended toward unnecessary risks. He wondered briefly how her sessions with the ship's counselor were going. He set the thought aside; this wasn't the time to ask.  
  
"You got a relatively lengthy scan of the sickbay containment field," he said. "Let's start there."  
  
*****  
  
It was a weary group who sat down to game that evening. Cormack and Lawless had been going non-stop in their respective departments all day. Mayweather had worked an extra shift on the bridge by his own choice. He'd been enjoying the Arachnid Nebula on a number of levels, never having had the opportunity to navigate anything like it while aboard his parents' freighter. Things had been quieter in Life Sciences, but Cutler and Novakovitch were still a bit worn out with the general excitement and added activity brought on simply by having visitors on board.  
  
Cutler surveyed the bleary-eyed group closely. "Does everyone really want to do this tonight?" she asked.  
  
The four players looked at one another. They were all obviously tired, but it was equally obvious that no one wanted to be the first to admit it and delay yet another gaming session.  
  
Taking their silence as an okay to proceed, Liz spoke. "All right. When last we left our intrepid adventurers, they were on the verge of actually connecting with their target." She checked her datapad. "You received the following hail: ' This is passenger transport Royal Albert requesting immediate assistance. Our pilot is injured. Engines are off line, and life support is failing. Please respond.' How do you proceed?"  
  
Novakovitch checked his own records. "I'm at the comm, so I'm going to respond to their hail."  
  
Liz waited. "So," she prompted finally, "respond."  
  
Ethan gave a small sigh. This wasn't his favorite part of role-playing, but he went along with it. "Transport Royal Albert, this is Rescue Ranger," he said giving the name they'd come up with for their fictional vessel. "Can you give us your exact coordinates?"  
  
Cutler replied, "Acknowledged, Rescue Ranger. Transmitting location. Please hurry." Then she reverted to her role as Game Master. "He's sending the coordinates."  
  
"I'm programming them into the con," said Cormack. She stifled a yawn. "Plotting a course. How long until we expect to reach them? We ought to give them an ETA, after all."  
  
"That all depends." She handed Stephanie a four-sided die. "Roll."  
  
Cormack took the die dubiously, but complied. "Four."  
  
"Then it could be a while. Who's monitoring the sensors?"  
  
"Unk is," said Travis, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. "What have I got?"  
  
"Two alien vessels approaching from around the large asteroid to port."  
  
"What kind of aliens? Same as before?"  
  
"What's the total of everyone's luck quotients?" Liz asked.  
  
The players compared notes and quickly arrived at a total. "Fourteen," announced Travis.  
  
Liz picked up several dice and rolled them behind her datapad so the others couldn't see the result. "No."  
  
"Damn," said Cormack wearily. She tried to hide another yawn but failed.  
  
"You shouldn't have done that," said Mae, responding in kind.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"We can do this another night," offered Liz as the yawn made its way through the group-including herself.  
  
This time, when the players regarded each other, they came to a new conclusion. "I think that's a good idea," said Travis. "The Vulcans are only supposed to be with us for a few days. We can pick it up after they go."  
  
Cutler nodded. She didn't like having to delay yet again, but better that than spending hours with a sleepy team. It was bound to be time wasted if they continued as they were. "All right. Let's set a tentative date of Friday." She saved the few changes they'd made that evening and collected up the dice as the gathering broke up.  
  
Travis came around to her end of the table and leaned over, planting a light kiss on Liz's cheek. "Sweet dreams," he said softly.  
  
Liz smiled. "You, too."  
  
Everyone said good night and headed off to their quarters. Cormack waited for her bunkmate to gather her things. "Sorry to spoil the fun," she said as they walked to the cabin they shared.  
  
"It's okay. I'd rather wait than waste an evening trying to keep everyone focused when we all just want to get some sleep."  
  
Stephanie nodded at the logic but was too pooped to offer a coherent reply. They arrived at their quarters and went inside. There was a "message waiting" light blinking on the computer. "Who's it for?" asked Cormack.  
  
Liz checked the screen. "You."  
  
"Is it marked 'urgent'?" She began to undress.  
  
"No."  
  
"Good. I'm going to bed."  
  
*****  
  
It was lunchtime when Malcolm next saw Trip. The lieutenant was taking a brief break from the Armory and stopped into the mess hall for a mug of tea. As he waited for the mug to fill, he noticed Tucker seated at a table with one of the Vulcan visitors. He didn't know what they were talking about, but something had drawn intrigued and amused looks from the surrounding tables, and he could see Trip shrink down a little in his chair. His interest piqued, Reed collected his mug of tea from the drinks dispenser and headed over.  
  
He cleared his throat to get their attention. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asked politely.  
  
"No. Please join us, Mister.?" the Vulcan engineer replied, waiting for Reed to fill in the blank for him.  
  
"Reed," the tactical officer offered with a smile. "Malcolm Reed." He took a seat and set his datapad on the table.  
  
"Kov," the Vulcan said in return. "We were just discussing Vulcan mating rituals."  
  
Not sure how else to respond, Reed said simply. "Oh," and glanced at Trip. The engineer gave a small, somewhat embarrassed nod of agreement.  
  
Oblivious, Kov continued. "Most of my people are extremely uncomfortable talking about such things. Vulcan males are driven to mate once every seven years," he said in an instructional voice.  
  
"Seven years?" exclaimed Tucker, unable to stop himself.  
  
Reed added a more subdued, "Frightening." He and the commander shared a knowing look, which went unobserved by the Vulcan.  
  
"Over the past few years, we've been developing methods to accelerate the mating cycle," explained Kov.  
  
Trip gave another small nod, started to speak, then thought better of it. He and Malcolm exchanged another sidelong look, and Reed could see the engineer was blushing ever so slightly. Tucker glanced at the remains of his lunch then over at Kov's empty plate. "You up for seconds?" he asked, happy to change the subject.  
  
"I've had enough, thank you," replied the rotund Vulcan. "Back to work?" Trip nodded once more, and he and Kov stood. Reed rose with them, fighting back a smirk. "A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Reed."  
  
"Likewise," the tactical officer replied. He sat again as the pair departed, chuckling quietly to himself. He was going to have fun teasing Trip about this little encounter later.  
  
Later. It was certainly going to be that. Malcolm knew the chances of spending any free time with his lover were slim-primarily because his lover had no free time. The engineer was already being run off his feet trying to coordinate the repairs to the Vahklas while still keeping Enterprise running smoothly. He was in for a long week-and it was only Tuesday.  
  
Reed sighed and turned his attention to the datapad he'd brought with him to read on his break. There were few who would call studying alien energy barriers a break, but at least he was sitting down. He was having trouble concentrating, though. The brief interlude with Trip and Kov had sent his mind wandering-and it seemed to have no inclination to wander back. He'd been staring at the same data set so long his tea had grown tepid. He took a sip and made a face. Giving up on the tea and the break, he decided to put the project away for the rest of the day.  
  
Determining it was too noisy in the mess hall, he stepped out into the corridor and found the nearest comm panel. He opened the comm and said, "Reed to Ensign Cormack."  
  
"Go ahead, Lieutenant," came the reply from the Armory.  
  
"Unless you've had some stunning revelation in the last fifteen minutes, I suggest we shelve the energy barrier study until tomorrow."  
  
Stephanie tried not to let the relief show in her voice as she replied. "No revelations here, sir. I think that's a good idea."  
  
"We'll get a fresh start on it tomorrow. Why don't you see if Ensign Young needs help with the phase-pistol training."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I'll be on the Bridge if you need me. Reed out." He closed the comm and, tucking his datapad into a pocket, headed for the Bridge.  
  
Down in the Armory, Cormack opened a new comm line. "Cormack to Young."  
  
There was a brief pause before the response came through. "Young here. Go ahead."  
  
"Do you need any help with the phase-pistol training?" she asked.  
  
There was another pause. "Really?"  
  
Cormack was surprised by his response but said, "Yeah. I'm free. Could you use another set of hands?"  
  
"Absolutely." His reply was so emphatic she wondered just what the deal was. "I'm in the Rec. Center."  
  
"Be there in a few. Cormack out."  
  
She was barely inside the room before Young handed her a datapad. He and two tactical crewmen were instructing three sciences crewmen in the safe use of the phase-pistols. "Could you maybe start on scheduling this group of people?" he said.  
  
Cormack looked over the list. The first name on it was Chef. "Oh thanks," she replied flatly.  
  
Young tried to give her an innocent smile but failed dismally. Stephanie just shook her head at him. "I do this and you owe me. Big time."  
  
"You actually schedule and clear Chef on these things," he said, indicating the weapon in his hand, "and I'll work your next half-shift day."  
  
"Next two," countered Cormack.  
  
"All right," Young caved. "Next two."  
  
"Deal."  
  
*****  
  
Tucker had done what the Captain had asked, but he sincerely doubted it had done any good. Kov had been quite explicit in his desire not to contact his dying father. How was Trip supposed to convince him otherwise? They'd developed a friendship in the short time they'd been working together, but that was no guarantee he would have any more success reaching him than Archer had.  
  
But he'd tried. His own childhood story of regret and a lost opportunity had seemed to have some small effect on the Vulcan engineer. Trip couldn't help thinking there must have been more he could have said. Maybe if he gave Kov a different side of the argument-a story about taking a risk and how it turned out to be the right thing to do.  
  
Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Since he'd spoken with Kov about his father, the Vulcan had been more reserved around him. Tucker didn't know if that meant he was offended or if he was just thinking over what Trip had said. Either way, he didn't think he'd have any better luck if he pursued the subject right away.  
  
Instead, they continued their work on the Vahklas's faulty injector.  
  
"That looks like it should do it," Trip said when he got the diagnostic results back.  
  
"I'll test fire the port thruster again tonight to be certain," replied Kov. His tone would have seemed normal had it come from another Vulcan, but for the V'tosh ka'tur, it was too flat and unemotional.  
  
Too logical, Trip's mind said. He didn't like it. Ignoring his resolve to let the matter lie until the morning, he said, "It's getting on to dinner time. Care to join me in the mess hall?"  
  
"No, thank you. I should return to the Vahklas. The sooner I do, the sooner I can run the test."  
  
"Right." Trip nodded at the logic of it. "I'll walk you back to the airlock."  
  
"That's not necessary."  
  
Tucker gave another small nod of acquiescence. "Okay. Let me know if you have any more trouble with that injector."  
  
"I will. Good evening." The Vulcan turned to go. He was about to descend the ladder from the high catwalk when he paused and turned back. "I'll think about what you said."  
  
This time, Trip smiled a little when he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
*****  
  
It had been a long and tedious day. Cormack had spent much of her duty shift tracking down the people on the list Young had passed on to her. She'd managed to get everyone scheduled for the needed weapon training except for Chef. The temperamental man had put her off every time she'd tried to speak to him-even when she'd showed up personally at the door to his galley. He'd made it abundantly clear he had no time to spare for her and her "nonsense."  
  
Now, she was on her way to the gym to blow off some steam. Lawless was supposed to meet her there for some weight training and a little yoga. All of engineering had been working overtime to get the Vulcan ship's engines and several other systems repaired, and Mae had said she was desperate for a break from it. They'd found a whole hour when neither of them was expected to be anywhere and were taking advantage of the time.  
  
Stephanie entered the gym to find Mae already there and stretching out. "Hey," she said.  
  
"Hey," answered Lawless releasing her stretch. "Weights first or yoga first?"  
  
"Weights," Cormack decided. "I need to work out some frustration before I can relax enough for yoga." She tossed her yoga mat and towel to one side and grabbed a pair of hand weights.  
  
"Why? What happened?" Mae joined her at the rack of weights and picked out a pair for herself.  
  
"Don't ask." Stephanie claimed a bench and began a slow series of upper body exercises. "Chef is the most stubborn person I've ever met," she declared suddenly.  
  
"Coming from you, that's saying something," gibed Lawless.  
  
"Ha ha," came Cormack's somewhat strained response. "Be nice or I'll drop a weight on you."  
  
"You sure you don't want to do the yoga now?"  
  
"Yes. If I don't burn off some irritation first, I'll never be able to focus. Tell me about your day."  
  
"It was pretty good, actually," said Mae. "We've finished up work on the Vahklas's propulsion systems. They should be good to go whenever they're ready."  
  
"That's good."  
  
Lawless chuckled suddenly.  
  
"What?" asked Cormack.  
  
"I just remembered something."  
  
"So tell." She was ready for a laugh after the frustrations of her day.  
  
"Commander Tucker was talking to Kov, the Vulcan engineer, this afternoon. I have no idea what it was about, but I'd swear it looked like the commander was dancing."  
  
"Dancing?" Stephanie stopped her repetitions to stare at her friend.  
  
"Just for a second. But I swear that's what it looked like."  
  
She joined in Mae's giggling. "Well, was he any good?"  
  
"Not especially."  
  
The pair burst into laughter just as the gym door slid open. Reed paused momentarily in the open doorway. Squelching the feeling that he should turn around and walk quickly the other way, he stepped inside and let the door close behind him.  
  
"Ladies," he said with a nod. He sat on the bench and began the ritual of taping his hands and feet before attacking the large punching bag.  
  
"Evening, Malcolm," said Cormack through her dying laughter.  
  
He eyed her from across the small gym. "I'm almost afraid to ask."  
  
"Don't," she said hastily. "Really."  
  
Still curious but willing to take her at her word, he gave a small nod of compliance. "How did the training go today?" he asked instead.  
  
Stephanie moaned and let her shoulders slump, the extra weight of the dumbbells emphasizing the pose.  
  
"Not well, I take it?"  
  
She stood up straight as she answered. "Honestly? I think it's going to take a direct order from Captain Archer just to get Chef out of the galley- never mind getting him to agree to the training."  
  
"The phase-pistol training?" put in Lawless.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Have you been cleared yet, Ensign?" Reed asked.  
  
"Not yet, sir. I'm scheduled for tomorrow afternoon."  
  
"Yep," agreed Cormack. "And assuming you don't suck, you should be good to go before the day is out."  
  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," the engineer replied sarcastically.  
  
"Don't worry," said Reed. "It's not so difficult. I'm sure you'll do fine."  
  
"Thank you," Mae answered-sincerely this time. She shot a dirty look at the snickering Cormack.  
  
"Sorry," said Stephanie, not in the least apologetic. "I'm just teasing."  
  
Lawless bit back a retort. While Stephanie seemed perfectly comfortable trading insults in front of a superior officer, she wasn't so sure. Instead, she changed the subject. "Spot me?" she asked, gesturing to the bench with the larger barbell.  
  
"Sure." They put away the hand weights and shifted to the bench. They'd only just adjusted the bar to the wieght they wanted when the hail came.  
  
"Dr. Douglas to Ensign Cormack."  
  
Giving Mae a puzzled look, Stephanie crossed the room to the comm panel and responded. "Go ahead."  
  
"It's 1715 hours. Has there been a change in schedule I'm not aware of?" the ship's counselor asked pleasantly.  
  
"Oh crap!" exclaimed Cormack. She glanced at her companions. "Is it Wednesday?"  
  
They both nodded as Douglas said, "Yes."  
  
"I'm sorry. I totally forgot. I'll be there in five minutes."  
  
"That's fine. Douglas out." The comm chirped as the connection was severed.  
  
Stephanie gathered up her towel and mat as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Mae. I just spaced on the appointment."  
  
"It's okay," the engineer assured her. "I can save the weights for another day."  
  
"I can spot you," offered Reed suddenly.  
  
"That's okay-" Lawless began to protest as Cormack said enthusiastically, "Would you? Great! Still on for breakfast tomorrow?" she asked Mae as she hurried to the door.  
  
"Yeah. 0630."  
  
"Great," she said again. "And thanks, Malcolm!" she added as she disappeared out the door.  
  
"You really don't have to," said Lawless, a little flustered. She knew Lieutenant Reed was a friend of Stephanie's, and Mae had spent social time with him as well-but always in a group, never on a one-on-one basis. She wasn't quite sure how to behave.  
  
"It's no trouble," the tactical officer assured her. "Are you ready?" He moved around to the head of the bench and waited.  
  
"I guess. Thanks."  
  
Rushing through the corridors, Cormack was unaware of the awkwardness she'd inadvertently created for the engineer. She paused at her quarters just long enough to ditch what she carried and grab a datapad before hurrying to Douglas's office.  
  
"Come in," he called when she rang the chime.  
  
Cormack entered and sat on the small couch. "Sorry," she said. "I've been so busy, I didn't realize what time it was."  
  
"Or what day," he teased.  
  
"Yeah. That, too," she answered with a rueful grin.  
  
"Have you been keeping a dream log like I suggested?"  
  
"Yeah." She held up the datapad she'd brought with her. "For what it's worth. It's just the same thing over and over."  
  
"That in itself bears consideration. You wouldn't be having this dream over and over if there wasn't a reason."  
  
"I suppose that makes sense." She gave a noncommittal shrug. Cormack held out the datapad, and Douglas took it.  
  
He skimmed through the entries she'd made. Getting to the most recent one, he stopped and read it more closely. "This is the first time you've ever expressed any feeling the dream left you with."  
  
She shrugged again. "First time I've felt anything."  
  
"And this was." He checked the date. ".last night."  
  
Cormack nodded. "Fourth time in a week," she said.  
  
"Is there anything else you can remember?"  
  
She shook her head. "I keep trying, but it fades really fast when I wake up. You can see for yourself," she added, gesturing to the datapad he still held. "I'm really not sure if there's even anything else to remember."  
  
He looked over the information once again, considering. "Perhaps it's not that there isn't anything, but that there is nothing."  
  
If Stephanie's brain hadn't already been muddled, it certainly would have been after that. "Huh?"  
  
"Listen to what you've written." He recounted back what she'd recorded in the datapad. "It wasn't dark or light. You don't know if you were standing or sitting or possibly floating. The space around you could have been vast or very, very small. There was nothing you could use to orient yourself, not even a color you could name. The only distinguishing factor was the cold."  
  
"I still don't get where you're going."  
  
The psychiatrist tried another tactic. "What's beyond the boundary of the universe?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing. Or another universe. Depends which theory you believe."  
  
"Let's assume it's nothing."  
  
"Okay." Stephanie was trying hard, but was having a tough time following where the doctor was trying to lead her. And her natural impatience wasn't helping. She wanted him to cut to the chase, but she knew that wasn't the way he worked.  
  
"All right. It's nothing," he reaffirmed. "So what is it, exactly?"  
  
"What do you mean, what is it? It's nothing." She could feel her minimal patience slipping away. "Void. Absence of.everything." Stephanie's hazel eyes widened slightly, and she trailed off.  
  
"Stephanie?" Douglas asked, concern clear in his voice.  
  
"There's nothing," she answered quietly, staring into the middle distance. Abruptly, she stood. "I have to go," she stated simply.  
  
Startled, Douglas rose with her. "You just got here."  
  
"I have to go," she repeated in a strangely unemotional voice. "Thanks for your help, Kyrin. I'm okay now."  
  
He was at a loss. "Where are you going?" he asked. Slowly, not wanting to startle her, he stepped out from behind his desk.  
  
"I don't know. But we're done, so I'm just going to go." She slipped out the door and disappeared around a corner.  
  
Douglas tried to catch her but was too slow. He looked up and down the corridor, saw no one. "Stephanie?" he called out, but got no answer. He stepped back into his office and hit the comm. "Douglas to Lieutenant Reed."  
  
There was a pause before the puzzled reply came through. "Go ahead, Doctor."  
  
"I don't want to alarm anyone, but Ensign Cormack just left here rather suddenly. She was in a.disturbed state. I'm not sure where she's going or what she may be going to do, but I think it would be best if we found her as soon as possible."  
  
Reed remembered what he'd learned the other day about how she'd intentionally hurt herself just to get a look at the Estvali medical equipment. If she was in that state of mind again, he needed to know. After all, she had access to all the ship's weaponry. "What do you mean by 'disturbed'?" he wanted to know.  
  
"She was unusually calm, dispassionate. I'd even say unemotional. I know it doesn't sound like much, but."  
  
"I understand. Reed out." Malcolm closed the connection. He sat and began to quickly pull the tape from his feet and hands.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Lawless. She hadn't been able to keep herself from eavesdropping when she'd heard Stephanie's name mentioned.  
  
"Nothing to worry about, I'm sure," replied Reed. He stood and, tossing the wadded tape into a trash chute, headed for the gym door.  
  
Mae caught up with him a few steps into the corridor. "Is Stephanie okay?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Lieutenant, please tell me what's going on. She's my friend. What happened? Maybe I can help."  
  
Not slowing his pace, he glanced over his should at her. "All right. Come on. We're going to the Armory. We can use internal sensors to find her."  
  
*****  
  
Oblivious to the commotion she was causing, Cormack continued to move purposefully through the ship. She wasn't thinking about where she was going, didn't notice the people she passed or the startled looks she got from several of them. Instinctively, her feet were taking her where she needed to be.  
  
The lift door slid open and she stepped out onto D-deck. Skirting Main Engineering, she found the panel she wanted and, checking to make sure she was unobserved, she pulled it off and slipped inside the bulkhead. She secured the panel behind her and crawled down the cramped jefferies tube.  
  
Several meters in, she reached a junction and climbed the ladder. At the next level, she doubled back. She finally stopped several twists and turns later. She took a deep breath and sighed it out. The sensors couldn't see her here, she knew. The radiation signature from the warp engines was too dense for them to penetrate. She was alone. Now she could think.  
  
*****  
  
"I can't find her," said Reed angrily. He'd scanned the whole ship twice and still come up empty-handed.  
  
"Could she have gone over to the Vahklas?" suggested Lawless.  
  
The lieutenant checked the ship's logs. He shook his head. "No one's been through the airlock in the past three hours. And the shuttlepods are all accounted for."  
  
"You don't suppose.?" Mae let the idea hang in the air.  
  
".She'd use the transporter?" Malcolm finished for her. His fingers flew over the console. After a moment, he let out a relieved sigh. "No. It's not been activated for days."  
  
"Then she has to be here somewhere!"  
  
"I'm open to suggestions, Ensign."  
  
The comm line chirped, and they heard the unmistakable voice of Commander Tucker. "Tucker to Reed."  
  
"Reed here."  
  
"You got a minute, Malcolm?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Commander," he replied. "I'm in the middle of something. Is it urgent?"  
  
"No," he said, puzzlement evident in his voice. "It can wait. Do you need a hand?"  
  
"No, thanks. I've got it under control."  
  
"All right. Tucker out."  
  
The line closed with another chirp. Reed looked at Lawless. "Now that I've said I have it under control, perhaps we'd better figure out how to keep me from becoming a liar."  
  
Mae's eyes widened as a thought struck her. "I have an idea."  
  
*****  
  
Tucked into her hiding place, Cormack simply sat with her knees pulled up close to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them.  
  
"At least I won't have that dream again," she muttered with a tiny, mirthless giggle. "Kyrin said if we could figure out what it meant, it would go away. Well, it'll go away now."  
  
She remembered it all now.  
  
It wasn't like she'd heard. It wasn't like what she'd read about-stories of people's 'near-death' experiences. None of it was true. There was no bright light and no voices. No welcoming embrace of Goddess or God. There was nothing there.  
  
This was what she had hidden from herself for over three months. This was what had caused her to panic in the large medical scanner, and before that in the tiny jefferies tube so much like the one in which she now took refuge. This was the thing she hadn't been ready to cope with and so had subconsciously manifested it as claustrophobia. As she sat there, her mind examined and understood the rationalization, the transfer of fear from something huge and incomprehensible to something simple and quantifiable. After all, she'd been wearing an EV suit when she'd died. How much more confined could she have been? Claustrophobia made sense.  
  
Her brain continued its analysis. She hadn't always followed Wiccan teaching, it reminded her. Why should it be so difficult to discard it again now? She'd grown up with no particular religious education and had only come to it in college. There she'd met Lynn and Noel with their quirky and unlikely combination of punk sensibilities and an unswerving devotion to their Goddess. What she'd learned from them had made sense at the time-indeed, it had made sense up until that fateful trip the to abandoned and disintegrating alien vessel.  
  
So what if there's nothing there? her inner voice said reasonably. That doesn't mean there's nothing here. And it doesn't mean there's nothing beyond there.  
  
She sat up straighter. "What?" she said aloud. "That makes no sense." But as she considered it, it did make a small sort of sense.  
  
"You're rationalizing," she told herself furiously.  
  
Why? her mind asked. Just because you didn't find anything doesn't mean there isn't anything to find.  
  
Stephanie considered this carefully. "So you're saying I was looking in the wrong place? I was dead. Where the hell else was I supposed to look?"  
  
She had no answer for herself. Still, it seemed wasteful to just discard beliefs she'd held for nearly ten years of her life based on one brief moment.  
  
"You're rationalizing," she repeated, but without the anger this time.  
  
She looked around the place where she sat and slowly released the hold she had on her knees. "Huh," she grunted, taking in the full meaning of her surroundings and her lack of reaction to them. "So much for the claustrophobia."  
  
"Stephanie?"  
  
Cormack started at the sound. She glanced down the tube to her left where the sound seemed to originate.  
  
"Stephanie?" it came more urgently this time.  
  
"Here," she called out in return.  
  
Lieutenant Reed appeared at the nearest junction, crouching uncomfortably in the tight space. "Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good, because I want to know what the hell you were thinking!" he replied angrily. "We're getting out of here, and then you're going to explain just what you were doing and why I shouldn't put you on report." He was relieved more than anything at finding her safe and whole, but that relief allowed him to be angry with her.  
  
"Yes, sir," she answered almost meekly. She knew she was in trouble. She'd behaved incredibly foolishly, and she wasn't sure she could explain why.  
  
Back out in the corridor, she stood silently as Reed hit the comm panel and hailed the ship's counselor.  
  
"Douglas here."  
  
"I've found her, Doctor," he said. "May we borrow your office for a few minutes?"  
  
"Certainly."  
  
"We'll be there shortly." He closed the comm. "After you." He gestured for her to precede him.  
  
Leading the way, she asked quietly. "How did you find me?"  
  
"You can thank Ensign Lawless."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"No," he reiterated. "I mean you can thank Ensign Lawless. If she hadn't figured it out, I'd have had to send teams to look for you, and that would have caused quite a stir. As it is, this incident has been kept quiet so far, and you're going to get an opportunity to convince me it should stay that way."  
  
*****  
  
When he heard Cormack's explanation of her actions, Reed couldn't bring himself to report her. He realized that what she had been going through, what had caused her to act the way she had that evening, stemmed from the away mission they'd gone on together. It was a mission for which he'd chosen her and on which he'd nearly lost her. Despite the conversation he and the Captain had had at the time, he couldn't help feeling he was responsible. So he decided to let tonight's incident go. Cormack's actions hadn't endangered the ship or anyone aboard. There was no good reason to put it on her record. There were only four people who even knew anything had happened, and that was the way it was going to remain.  
  
Having finally cleaned up and changed out of his work-out gear, he headed down the corridor toward Stephanie's cabin. It was late for dinner, but he hadn't eaten and he knew she hadn't either. He reached her door and rang the chime.  
  
"Who is it?" called Cormack.  
  
"It's Malcolm. May I come in?"  
  
"Just a second."  
  
He thought he could hear her bustling about, but before he could be sure, the door opened.  
  
"Hey," said Stephanie a little breathlessly.  
  
"Hello." He caught a whiff of something in the air. His eyes narrowed. "It smells like smoke," he said flatly.  
  
"Really? I don't smell anything."  
  
He glanced past her into the cabin. "You've been burning candles. Why? You know there's a rule against open flames on board."  
  
"I've got the captain's permission to use them for Wiccan holy day rituals," protested Cormack hastily.  
  
Malcolm was a little taken aback. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize. I didn't mean to interrupt you."  
  
But Stephanie couldn't keep up the deception. "You're not." Her shoulders slumped a little as she admitted, "It's not a holy day."  
  
His face hardened again. "Then why?" he repeated. "After what's already happened today, why would you go and do something else that could get you in trouble?"  
  
"I." She sighed, trying to put into words what she was feeling. "I needed.I don't know. I guess you'd say I needed an.affirmation, you know? I needed to refocus." She stopped, unable to explain what she meant.  
  
"It's all right," Malcolm said finally. "Forget it. I never saw a candle burning, so what evidence do I have? Besides, that's not why I stopped by."  
  
"Yeah, what are you doing here?" She smiled so he'd know she didn't really object to his unexpected visit.  
  
"I came to see if you were hungry. Some of us didn't get dinner tonight," he teased gently.  
  
Cormack hung her head sheepishly. "Um, yeah. Least I could do is buy you dinner, right?" she joked.  
  
"Something like that." Reed gave her his usual wry smile.  
  
"Okay. You don't mind being seen with me looking like this?" she asked, indicating her particularly informal attire.  
  
Malcolm considered her baggy sweatshirt and loose, cotton pants he was pretty certain he'd seen her sleep in when they were quarantined together. He only had one suggestion. "You might want some shoes."  
  
"Good point," she agreed readily. "I show up in the mess hall barefoot and I'll never win Chef over." She quickly sat and slipped on a pair of shoes. "He has little enough respect for me when I'm in full uniform."  
  
"Tell you what. I'll personally see that Chef is cleared on the phase- pistols."  
  
"Really?" She was sorely tempted. "No. Thanks." She stood, shaking her head. They stepped out into the corridor and headed for the mess hall.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"If I can do it, Young said he'd take my next two half-days."  
  
Reed laughed. "That's the second wager you've made in a month."  
  
"And I won the last one," she reminded him. "But, if I can't do it by the end of the week, does your offer still stand?"  
  
He thought about it. "All right."  
  
Stephanie smiled. "Cool."  
  
*****  
  
It was late when the door chime rang unexpectedly. Tucker blinked through the darkness at the bedside chronometer. The illuminated numbers told him it was 0033. "What the hell?" he muttered. He'd had enough trouble getting to sleep that night; now this?  
  
It had been a day of ups and downs. On the positive side, they'd completed the work on the Vahklas. On the negative, his conversation with Kov had left him feeling frustrated and powerless. He'd hoped to meet Malcolm for dinner that evening to cheer himself up, but the lieutenant had been strangely distracted when he'd hailed him. Trip had wondered what was up, but figured it was another thing that would have to wait until morning- which was why he was having such trouble sleeping.  
  
The door chimed again.  
  
"Coming," he called. He pushed back the bedclothes. He turned on a light and squinted at the sudden brightness. "This better be an emergency," he muttered, knowing if that were the case whoever it was would have used the comm. He pulled on a robe and answered the door.  
  
The rude comment he was about to make died on his lips. "Malcolm?" he said instead.  
  
"Sorry to bother you," the tactical officer said uncertainly.  
  
"No bother," said Trip, mystified but no longer upset at the late night disturbance. "Come on in."  
  
Malcolm stepped inside, and Trip let the door shut behind him. "Did I wake you?" Reed asked.  
  
The engineer gave a small shrug. "Not really."  
  
"I couldn't sleep either. It's been a rather stressful day. Too many things on my mind, and they wouldn't stop. I thought maybe if.I had someone to keep me company." He trailed off.  
  
Tucker regarded him, trying to guess what his lover needed more-talk or distraction. He guessed the latter.  
  
"Looking for something to distract you from all those thoughts?" he asked suggestively.  
  
Malcolm blushed, a faint rose color rising in his cheeks. "Something like that," he admitted.  
  
"I'm not sure I've ever seen you blush before." Something tickled the engineer's memory, but he couldn't quite pin it down. He decided it could wait for another time.  
  
"It doesn't happen often," the lieutenant said firmly.  
  
"That's a shame." Trip smiled coyly, eliciting a similar response from Malcolm. "Wonder what I can do about that?"  
  
"Don't even think it," the smaller man said threateningly.  
  
Tucker gave him his best disappointed look. He stepped closer. "No?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Can I think about this?" the engineer asked softly, taking his lover into his arms.  
  
"Maybe." Reed fought back a smile.  
  
"Or this?" Tucker nibbled at an earlobe and was rewarded with a shiver he could feel run though Malcolm's whole body. "Or this?" He continued his exploration along Malcolm's jaw line and down his neck, surreptitiously sliding the robe off Malcolm's shoulders. It fell in a puddle at his feet. Reed shivered again and let out a low moan. Trip chuckled deep in his throat. "Like that, huh?"  
  
"Oh yes," Malcolm was just able to gasp out.  
  
"Good." Reaching under his lover's loose shirt, he pulled it up and off, tossing it negligently to one side. "Don't move," Trip ordered. He gave Reed a lascivious smile and said nothing more. Instead, he planted supple kisses across Malcolm's collarbone, every now and then punctuating his attentions with a nip of his teeth. He chuckled, again, low in his belly when Malcolm started slightly and gasped. Inexorably, he made his way along every inch of exposed skin, his lips, teeth, tongue, and hands all finding little ways to titillate his lover and drive him to distraction.  
  
Trip paused in his tender ministrations and looked into Malcolm's deep blue eyes. "Now," he said softly, "just what was it that was bothering you?"  
  
Reed grinned. "Can't remember," he said.  
  
"Good," repeated the fair-haired engineer. He reached out and shut off the light.  
  
***** End Log 19 


	20. Log 20

**Log Rhythms**  
by DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 20**: (Takes place during and immediately following the events of _Rogue Planet_.)  
_Rating [PG-13]_

*****

"Oh my gods!" exclaimed Cormack.

Liz started. She was familiar with her bunkmate's propensity for sudden outbursts; that didn't mean she was always prepared for them. "What?!"

"I'm gonna be an aunt!"

"Oh!" Cutler relaxed. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. I had no idea Ryn and Gemma were even _thinking_ about having another baby." She sat back in the desk chair. "Oh my gods," she repeated more quietly.

The message had arrived several days ago, but Stephanie had put off opening it. She'd been too tired the night she first noticed it, and since then she'd been very busy on a number of projects. Between working with Lieutenant Reed on the force field project and assisting in training the crew on the safe use of the phase-pistols, her time had been quite thoroughly filled. Now, she was regretting the delay. Ryn and Gemma were likely wondering why she hadn't yet responded to this momentous news. _I'm surprised my mother hasn't sent me one of her "friendly inquiry" messages,_ she thought.

Quickly, she finished reading the missive, relaying certain salient points to her roomie. "Ryn's due in May. Oh! They're having a girl this time so they didn't need Marston as their chromosome donor. That's cool."

"Uh…" Liz looked up from the journal she was studying. "…are you sure you're not entering the realm of too much information here?"

"What? No. Unless it bothers you?" She glanced over her shoulder at her friend. 

Liz shook her head. "No. I'm an exobiologist, remember?" she teased lightly. "I just didn't want you giving away family secrets. Who's Marston, anyway?"

"Gemma's brother."

"So he supplied the necessary Y last time?"

"Yeah. He's a great guy! I'd've married him if he wasn't already married."

"Really?" Cutler was surprised. She'd never heard Stephanie talk about this man, and she'd never heard her talk about marriage; now she was getting both in the same sentence?

"Nah. Not really. But he's definitely a keeper. His wife's pretty cool, too. I met her at Ryn and Gemma's wedding."

"So, are they picking out names yet?" Liz asked.

"I doubt it. That's not their style." Stephanie gave the letter one more quick skim to be sure her assumption was correct. "Nope. No mention of names. They won't pick one until the kid's born. That's what they did last time."

Liz was surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Gemma says you can't name a kid until you've met it."

"That makes sense in an odd sort of way," said Liz, considering it carefully.

Cormack gave a small shrug. "I can see her point, but the lack of preparation disturbs me."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Stephanie admitted. "It just seems…wrong."

Liz laughed. "Well, if you have a baby you can name it whenever you want."

"Gods no!" exclaimed Cormack. "That is _so_ not going to happen."

"No?"

"No. Kids are all well and good…as long as I can give them back to their parents when they stop being well and good. Besides, I'm not the nurturing type."

Cutler eyed her bunkmate. After a moment, she said, "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely!" Cormack nodded emphatically. "There's a reason I went into weaponry and security," she added dryly. "As for kids, well, I can handle my nephew for about an hour or two—as long as he's happy. But when he gets tired and cranky, I'm at a complete loss. That's when he gets handed back to his moms. Speaking of whom…" She turned back to the computer. "…I really need to send them a letter before my own mom sends me one asking why I've been remiss in my sisterly support duties." The last was said with light irony.

"Do you need me to be quiet so you can record it?"

"No thanks. I think I'll follow Ryn's old-fashioned sensibilities and type it."

"Oo! How quaint!" quipped Cutler, making Stephanie laugh.

"Hey, she's pregnant. I might as well do something I know she likes, and for some reason she really likes written letters."

"To each her own." 

"Yeah. I'll take a compressed video file any day, but it's the least I can do. Hell, this many light-years away, it's the _only_ thing I can do." She adjusted the computer keyboard and began to type.

*****

"I'm showing a plugged nitrogen valve," said Lawless, examining the readout on her screen. "I'll check it out."

"All right," agreed Commander Tucker. "Watch the seal. Remember what happened to Hank."

"Yes, sir," agreed the ensign emphatically. The crewman in question had been rerouting just such a valve when the seal blew, burning his hand and face. His injuries had been minor considering what might have happened, but she didn't care to experience it for herself. She collected the necessary tools and headed to the upper level.

Tucker moved to the central engineering station. He was checking on the dilithium alignment when a hail came through from the planet surface.

"Archer to Tucker."

"Go ahead, Captain," the engineer replied, hitting the comm button.

"You interested in a little camping trip?"

"Sir?"

"Malcolm and Hoshi are on their way back to _Enterprise_. We won't be needing a translator, and Hoshi wasn't inclined to stay. Malcolm's gathering up what we need to spend the night. You care to join us?" The smile in Archer's voice was practically audible; he knew his chief engineer well enough to know what his response would be.

Trip grinned. "I'll get my camera. Tucker out." He closed the comm and looked around. Spotting Lieutenant Hess, he practically leapt down to the deck and hurried over to her. "I'm heading down to the planet," he informed the startled woman. "You're in charge until I get back."

"Yes, sir," she replied with a smile.

"This time, don't break the ship," he teased as he headed out. The last time he'd left Engineering in her hands, a damaged alien vessel had completely taken out the starboard door to Launch Bay Two. It had nothing to do with the lieutenant, but he enjoyed ribbing her about it nonetheless.

"No, sir." Hess shook her head at his departing figure. 

Lawless descended to the main deck at that moment. "Where's the commander going?" she asked.

"Planetside," the lieutenant replied.

"Oh. Lucky him." Her C.O. gone, she instead gave her report to his replacement. "I finished rerouting that nitrogen valve," she informed Hess.

"Good. Commander Tucker was planning on running diagnostics on the impulse engines this afternoon. We might as well get started."

"Yes, ma'am."

*****

Trip was trying to be nonchalant, but Malcolm could tell he was edgy. Finally, the engineer broke the silence. "That bore worm you and Hoshi mentioned," he began. "Does it really…crawl into your ear to lay its eggs?"

Reed fought back a smirk and kept his eyes trained on his instruments. "That's what the Eska said," he replied. "And I assume they'd know; they have been hunting on this world for nine generations."

"Huh." Tucker sat back in the navigation seat.

"Five minutes to the landing site," Reed said.

"I'm surprised there's actually a piece of ground down there with room to land this thing." Trip eyed the readouts on the thick jungle foliage, a doubtful look on his face.

"Captain Archer found a spot."

"Captain Archer can land a shuttlepod with his eyes closed," Tucker countered.

"Are you questioning my piloting skills?" inquired Malcolm with the slightest touch of mock offense in his voice.

"Not at all." There was a small pause before Trip added, "I'm questioning your landing skills." The two men laughed. "Tell me more about the Eska."

"There's nothing more to tell," Reed said. "You already know as much as I do."

"And you're really going hunting with them in the morning?"

"Yes." Something in his partner's voice made him ask, "Is that a problem for you?"

There was silence as Tucker thought about it. "Kind of," he admitted.

"Would it help if I told you I'd promised the captain I wouldn't kill anything?"

"Yeah," said Trip, surprised at his own reaction to the news. "It does."

"There's the landing site up ahead." Reed pointed it out. 

Tucker stood and peered out the front port, leaning against the back of the pilot's seat. "That's it? I think I'll sit down again."

"Ye of little faith," muttered Reed, but he was smiling.

*****

"Hang on," Mae looked across the table at her friend. "Captain Archer, Sub-commander T'Pol, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed are all down on the planet?"

"Uh-huh," Cormack confirmed.

"Who the hell's running the ship?!"

"I assume Travis is at the helm."

"Travis doesn't even out-rank _us_!"

"No, but he's the Alpha-shift helmsman. He's had the bridge before."

"Yeah, but they're going to be down there a while."

Stephanie chuckled. "It's Beta-shift now, anyway. I expect the same people who are usually running the ship at this hour are doing so right now. You're just annoyed because it's delayed the gaming session we were supposed to have tonight."

"Well…partly," Lawless begrudgingly admitted. She took another bite of her hot fudge sundae.

"Man, that looks good," said Cormack, eyeing it covetously.

"It is. You could have one, you know."

"No. I wanted something warm tonight."

"If you say so, but sometimes it pays to lose an argument with yourself."

"What?"

"I've been wanting ice cream all week," Mae explained. "But I kept telling myself I didn't need it. Of course when you're having actual discussions with yourself—out loud, I might add—that's when it's time either to give in or make an appointment with the ship's counselor. I decided it was simpler to just eat the ice cream."

"Now that's the kind of logic I can follow." The two laughed.

"Enjoying your evening, I see," said a pleasant tenor voice.

Stephanie glanced up and smiled. "Hi, Kyrin," she replied. "Join us? We were just discussing the relative benefits of ice cream versus psychotherapy."

"I expect I could formulate an opinion on that," the psychiatrist answered with a smile. "Although my answer might just put me out of a job." He pulled up a chair and sat.

"Have you met Ensign Lawless?" asked Stephanie, indicating her friend.

"Not personally." 

"Mae Lawless, Doctor Kyrin Douglas."

The doctor held out a hand, and Mae quickly wiped off the bit of chocolate she'd gotten on her fingers and shook it. "Pleased to meet you," Douglas said.

"You, too."

"Not hungry?" asked Cormack. She took a sip of her hot cocoa, slurping a little of the whipped cream that topped it.

"Actually, I'm _starving_," he answered emphatically. "But I'm meeting Liam for a late dinner. He should be here any minute."

"Liam? You mean Donnelly from communications?"

"Mm-hmm. Do you know him?"

"I've not met him, but I've heard Ensign Sato say good things. She thinks he has a good shot at becoming an officer at the next review."

"That would make him one happy camper." Douglas smiled broadly.

"Yeah, well. It's not up to Hoshi. He's got to pass the exams first."

"He will. Ah! And speak of the handsome devil." The young communications crewman had just entered the mess hall. "Excuse me, ladies." The psychiatrist rose, caught Donnelly's glance, and waved. Even across the room, they could see Liam's eyes light up. He grinned and approached them.

"See you, Kyrin."

"Nice meeting you, Doctor," added Mae with a smile.

Douglas simply nodded and quickly moved to intercept his date.

"He'd better hope Donnelly makes ensign at the reviews," said Mae under her breath.

"I know," replied Cormack just as softly.

According to Starfleet regulations, there was no fraternization allowed between officers and enlisted crew members. There were several reasons why, and they were all good ones. However, as long as relationships were kept platonic, it was a non-issue. Cormack had her doubts about this particular relationship, but believed Douglas was smart enough not to let it get that far—at least, not yet. Should Donnelly pass the officers' review, though, all bets were off.

She smiled to herself. She liked seeing people happy and hoped this pairing would work out well.

"What are you grinning at?" Lawless asked.

"Nothing." Stephanie sipped her cocoa.

*****

Reed rose from his seat by the softly crackling campfire. "I suppose I'll turn in then," he said. He gave Trip a pat on the shoulder as he passed him.

"Sounds like a good idea," the engineer agreed, recognizing the signal he and his lover had established on their brief flight from _Enterprise_ to the planet. He stood.

T'Pol, too, decided it was time to rest and silently headed to her own tent.

"I'll think I'll sit up for a while," said Archer.

Trip chuckled. "Have fun." He turned and followed Malcolm to their tent.

Archer nodded and smiled, acknowledging the barb. There was no real reason to stay up, he knew. It simply felt good to get out. He would have liked a little sunlight but that being an impossibility on this night-enshrouded planet, he settled for what he could get and was happy for it. Fresh air, green leaves, the light breeze that gently fanned the flames of their campfire—every little thing was something to enjoy. He leaned back against the log and stared up at the stars.

Inside the two-man tent they were sharing, Trip and Malcolm were talking softly.

"Come on," purred Reed. "Haven't you ever wanted to make love outdoors?"

"Sure," Tucker whispered, "just not with my Captain only ten feet away!" He tried quickly to come up with another argument that might keep his unexpectedly frisky partner at bay. Who knew Malcolm would find the present circumstances so arousing? "Besides, we're not really outdoors."

"Close enough. It's too dangerous to go out into the jungle, anyway. This will do nicely." Malcolm stepped closer and began unzipping Trip's jumpsuit.

Tucker grabbed his hands before they could get too far. He knew if they did, he'd be lost. "Malcolm!"

The dark-haired man just chuckled deep in his chest and pressed up against his lover, gratified to feel Trip's involuntary response. He leaned in a little harder. "Yes?"

"They're going to hear us!" Tucker protested, but didn't pull away.

"Then you'll just have to be very, very quiet."

Trip hoped it was too dim inside the tent for Malcolm to recognize the flush that suddenly colored his cheeks. He knew he was the more vocal one of the pair; he didn't need Malcolm reminding him. "What about T'Pol?"

Reed frowned. "What about her?" While he personally had no problems with the Vulcan woman, he didn't care to be reminded of her while he was trying to get Trip as hot and bothered as he was himself. He didn't find the science officer conducive to the mood.

"Even if Captain Archer doesn't hear anything, those ears of hers are bound to. Besides," the engineer tried yet another tactic, "don't you have a hunt to go on in a few hours? You want to be well-rested for that."

"I'd sleep better if…" he tilted his head to one side and whispered something into Trip's ear.

The younger man shivered a little, both in response to the suggestion and at the tickle of warm breath on his neck. He realized then that he still had hold of Malcolm's hands, and the tactical officer wasn't trying to get away. Instead the lieutenant continued press against him, his thigh finding just the right slow rhythm of movement.

With a desperate force of will, Tucker released his hold and took a step back. He could see the look of disappointment flicker across his lover's face. Taking a deep breath, Trip willed his heart to slow its pace to something approaching normal.

"I want to," he said very softly. "I really, _really_ want to. I just don't think…"

Reed took advantage of the incomplete thought. "That's right. Don't think. There's no need. Just relax and enjoy." He took a small step forward, halving the distance between them. Trip didn't back up. Malcolm smiled. Slowly, he reached out again and took a gentle hold of the engineer's zipper. "That's it," he murmured tenderly, easing down the zip. "You do want to, right?" He looked into Trip's pale blue eyes made nearly translucent by the light of the small lantern. Not trusting himself to speak, Tucker simply nodded.

Malcolm smiled again. Reaching the end of the zipper, he slipped his hands inside the collar of Tucker's uniform and slid it gently over the strong, broad shoulders. He could feel the muscles under the fabric of the soft, black shirt. For a moment, he felt he couldn't wait and wanted to yank the impeding garment off his lover's body. But he refrained. How often would this sort of opportunity present itself? It was rare enough that he wanted to take the time to savor every second. So he restrained the impulse, took his time.

For his part, Trip stood mesmerized. The sight and smell and feel of his partner undressing him, gently caressing him was like liquor; it made him giddy, and good sense quickly fled. Worry about being overheard was wiped out and replaced by the near sensory overload caused by Malcolm's touch. They could have been surrounded by half the crew, but his universe had been reduced to the tent around him and the man before him.

"T'Pol! Trip, Malcolm!"

The shout shattered his world.

Malcolm's head slumped against Trip's shoulder. "Damn," he muttered. He let go of his lover and stepped back, grabbing his boots from where he'd left them. He immediately sat and slipped them on.

Tucker fought to pull his brain back from where it had gone. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around the tent, trying to regain some sense of reality.

The cry came again. "Tucker! Lieutenant Reed!"

"Shit!" Trip exclaimed under his breath. He immediately pulled his jumpsuit back up. Shaky hands fumbled with the zipper before he was able to pull it up. "Captain?" he called, stalling as he straightened his uniform.

Malcolm shot a quick, regretful glance at his partner and determined they were both presentable enough for him to open the tent flap. He did, stepping out into the eternal night of Dakala. Trip quickly shoved his feet into his boots and followed him.

*****

"So, what do you think?" asked Reed softly. He rolled onto one side in the sleeping bag and looked at Tucker.

Trip continued to stare up at the ceiling of the tent, nearly invisible in the darkness. "I don't know. I still think he must have seen something."

"But don't you think he could have been dreaming? To see a human woman here where she couldn't possibly be, and for her to be dressed in a nothing more than a nightgown…"

"Captain Archer's just not the kind of person who imagines stuff like that."

"How do you know? You can't get inside his mind."

"No, I can't." Tucker turned his head to meet Malcolm's gaze. "But I've known him a long time. I know what kind of man he his. He wouldn't make up a story like that. Who'd believe him if he did?" he added pointedly.

"I believe that the captain believes what he's told us is true," the tactical officer said gently, not wanting to anger his partner. He knew Trip had a protective streak where Archer was concerned. "But look at the reality. We're light-years from Earth. Travis reported no other ships in the vicinity. Where could she have come from? How did she get here?"

"You're starting to sound like T'Pol," muttered Tucker with distaste. He looked back up at the ceiling.

Malcolm let the comment lie. Trip's dislike for the science officer—and Vulcans in general—was a subject for another discussion. "I just don't think we should rule out the possibility the Captain was imagining her, or hallucinating even."

"None of our scans picked up any toxins that might have caused hallucinations," the engineer argued stubbornly.

"Our scans might have missed something. They're not infallible."

Trip said nothing. He agreed with Malcolm on all the points he'd made; he also believed what Archer had said he'd seen. Without more evidence either way, he couldn't reach any conclusions. "We should get to sleep," he said finally.

Reed nodded slightly, acknowledging both what his lover had said what had remained unspoken. "Good night." He laid back and closed his eyes. 

They lay there in silence for several minutes. Malcolm was just beginning to drift off when he felt Trip move. The engineer shifted onto his side and slid an arm around his lover's waist. Reed smiled, wrapped an arm around him in return. "Sleep well," he whispered.

*****

"Sato to Doctor Phlox."

He tapped the nearest comm panel. "Phlox here," replied the Denobulan promptly.

"Emergency call from Captain Archer. He says to prepare for one casualty."

Cutler looked across at Phlox, the question in her mind the same as in his. "Who is it?" he asked.

"One of the Eska. Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are bringing him to _Enterprise_ now. ETA six minutes."

"Understood." He closed the comm and picked up the med-kit he kept prepared for just such emergencies.

"Can I help?" asked Cutler. "I'm not a triage nurse, but…"

"But you're an outstanding exobiologist. I expect your skills will be most helpful."

*****

Tucker and Reed allowed the medical team to whisk the injured Eska away without impediment. Reed had done his best to keep the wounded man from bleeding to death as Trip piloted the shuttlepod back into the belly of _Enterprise_. Now they were both happy to leave the work of healing him to the professionals.

"You didn't see _anything_?" Trip asked Malcolm as they locked down the shuttlepod.

"No. Shiraht and I were tracking the _drayjin_. The others split off to follow another trail. Damrus suggested it was only a sensor ghost; he didn't want to lose the _drayjin_ by allowing all of us to chase something that might not even be there." He paused in what he was doing, considering the exchange. It hadn't seemed strange to him then, but looking back on it he couldn't help but wonder if he'd missed something. "Maybe there _is_ some sort of hallucinogenic substance down there. Something our sensors couldn't detect."

"I don't think so," Trip said firmly, shaking his head. "Whatever attacked Burzaan, it wasn't a hallucination or a sensor ghost."

"Quite." Reed looked at the engineer thoughtfully. "You don't suppose there's a connection between this attack and whatever it was the Captain saw, do you?"

"I can't imagine what…or why."

"Nor can I. But I'm not a big believer in coincidences."

"Either way, the sooner we get back down there the better I'll feel."

"Worried about the Captain?"

Trip shrugged, trying not to appear as anxious as he felt. It didn't work. "That obvious, huh?"

"A bit."

"I've never seen him like this." Tucker stopped working and sat on the pod's aft bench. "He's seeing things that can't be there, and he _knows_ they can't be there." He paused for a moment, making a quick decision. "While you were out on the hunt, he disappeared," he confided.

"What?" Reed hadn't heard this. In the flurry of activity after the attack, he'd barely had time to react. It hadn't crossed his mind to ask what the rest of the landing party had been doing.

"I was taking some pictures of the volcanic vents and he just…wandered off. When T'Pol and I found him, he was just standing there in the jungle, looking kind of lost. He said he was taking some scans, but…"

"You think he was following that woman again."

Trip nodded. "He told me earlier he was drawn to her. Said it was like he couldn't control himself."

"I don't like the sound of that," said Reed seriously.

"No." Tucker looked at him. "You see why I want to get back down there."

"We can't do that until we hear from the doctor."

"Can you finish up here?"

Reed looked surprised, but nodded. "Sure."

"I'm going to check on our guest."

*****

Tucker's brief visit to sickbay left him with more questions than he'd had when he arrived. He returned to the launch bay to find Reed still working on the shuttlepod. 

"What did you find out?" the lieutenant asked. He'd completed the shuttlepod post-landing checks while Trip was in sickbay; now he was running the standard pre-launch check. He wanted everything ready so they could go the moment the doctor declared his patient fit to travel.

"Burzaan's going to be okay, but it'll be a few hours before we can take him back down to the planet," he replied, frustrated. "Maybe we could leave now and come back for him later."

Malcolm shook his head. "I don't think his friends would be too pleased at that."

"Why do you say that?" 

"I think they'd see it as another delay to their hunt. If we wait here, we can take him back as soon as he's cleared by Doctor Phlox. If we return to the planet, there's the added delay of flying back up here to pick him up, then the trip back down… You get my point?"

"Yeah," agreed Trip grudgingly. "I get it."

"Besides, I'd rather not take any chances that might anger the Eska."

Trip glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean? They haven't shown us any hostility up to now."

"No. But they haven't really welcomed us with open arms, either."

"They invited you on their hunt," the engineer pointed out.

Malcolm shook his head. "I invited myself. They just agreed to let me tag along."

"I don't see the difference."

"It's just a feeling I have. I think they figured if they let us join them, it would raise fewer questions than if they asked us to leave. I wonder if it really was _drayjin_ we were hunting," he added reflectively, sitting back in the shuttlepod's pilot seat.

"You know, I think you were right before," said Trip.

"Right about what?"

"I think maybe there is a connection between the Captain's mystery woman and the attack."

"How so?"

"Doctor Phlox found cellular residue in Burzaan's wound. He said it was in…what was the term he used? Chromosomal flux. Said it was trying to mutate into something, but the cells didn't know what."

"I still don't see the connection."

"This may sound a little crazy, but what if that _drayjin_ you were hunting wasn't just an ordinary sort of wild pig? What if it was something _pretending_ to be a pig?"

Reed sat up a little straighter as he followed where Tucker was leading him. "You think there's something down there that can change its shape at will?"

"Sure would explain a lot."

"But how would it know to change into a human woman? It can't have seen one."

"Except Hoshi," Tucker pointed out.

"Then why doesn't this woman look like Hoshi? And why would the Captain say he recognized her?"

"I don't know. I'm just tossing out ideas here."

The two sat in silence for several moments, each caught up in his own thoughts. "I bet the Eska know what's going on," said Reed eventually.

"Yeah," agreed Trip. "But why do I think they aren't going to be real forthcoming with the information?"

*****

Cormack grabbed a cookie and joined her friends at the mess hall table. "Okay, now we can start." She sat.

"Okay," said Liz. "Let's recap. You've defeated the aliens who attacked you and you've just docked with the damaged transport, _Royal Albert_. Everybody on the same page?" There were nods of assent and a general murmur of agreement from everyone at the table. "Great. How do you proceed?"

Mayweather spoke up as the leader of the team. "Have we confirmed the seal on the air-lock?"

"Yes. It's good."

"Then I say we open the door."

"Order of entry?"

"I'll go in first."

"Right behind ya, big guy," quipped Cormack, munching her cookie. 

"Barbarella's going in as well. If we have to move an injured man, it'd be good to have the strongest one there to do it," put in Mae.

"In that case, I'll stay with the ship," said Novakovitch. "Somebody needs to keep things running while the rest of you play hero."

"In that case…" Liz picked up a datapad from the small pile she'd accumulated during the course of the days-long game. She activated it and handed it to Travis. "This is who you're meeting."

Mae and Stephanie rose and leaned in over the helmsman's shoulders to get a look. There were images of five people on the small screen. Travis zoomed in on the first one and read the related information. "This is the Captain?" he asked.

Cutler nodded.

"Who is this really?" Lawless wanted to know. "I don't recognize him as anyone on board."

"He's my uncle," said Liz. "He's a commercial pilot, so I thought he'd be an appropriate choice."

"Right on."

"Don't I get to see this?" Ethan wanted to know.

"Not until Rust does," answered Cutler, meaning his character in their game. "You stayed on _Rescue Ranger_, so you don't get to meet anyone until your teammates bring them aboard."

It made sense. Ethan looked mildly annoyed, but let it go.

"Done?" Mayweather asked, glancing at the women behind him. They both nodded, and he selected the second picture.

Cormack laughed. "That's Mac!" she exclaimed.

"I didn't have a whole lot of resources," Liz replied. "Those baseball games were quite handy, and he looked most like a navigator to me."

"He looks like a second baseman to me, but I love your choice." 

The trio quickly read through the information on the newest character and the passenger transport's current mission.

"What's this 'galactic cultural exchange program'?" asked Mae.

"Just keep reading," advised the Game Master.

They moved on to the final picture, and Cormack froze. Liz noticed the reaction and waited to see what her bunkmate would do. Standing next to her, Lawless tried not to react to the image on the screen. She'd known a little of what Liz had planned—after all, it had been her idea—but she'd not had a clue how the joke was going to play out.

"Three Sisters," read Travis, oblivious to the subtleties going on around him. "They're a band?" He skimmed further down the screen. "Oh, I get it. Masha, Olga, and Irina—from Chekhov." He looked more closely at the picture. "Does the one on the left look familiar to you guys?" he asked, and glanced once more at Mae and Stephanie.

Slowly, Cormack looked at Lawless who was still trying desperately to keep a neutral expression. Then she looked down the table to Cutler. Liz was having better luck as she was already in GM mode and had her game face on. Travis and Ethan exchanged puzzled looks. Novakovitch shrugged.

There was a charged silence.

Finally, Stephanie spoke. "I will _so_ get you for this," she said quietly.

Cutler smiled sweetly. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked in mock innocence.

"Hmm," said Mae. "You're right, Travis. The one on the left does look awfully familiar."

"And you, too." Cormack directed this at Lawless, continuing her thought.

"Me?" inquired Mae, falsely ingenuous.

"Oh yes, you."

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Travis, finally catching on. "That's _you_!" He stared, wide-eyed, at the blonde woman.

"What?" Ethan stood and reached across the table, grabbing the pad from the helmsman's hands. He scrutinized the picture, occasionally glancing back at Cormack for comparison. "You're right! It is!"

"How the hell did you get that picture?" Stephanie asked.

"I could tell you," said Mae with a mischievous grin, "but then I'd have to kill you."

"You should live so long and be so lucky," countered her friend. A thought occurred to her. "You didn't get this from Lieutenant Reed, did you?" she demanded.

Her friends looked at her, curious. "No," said Cutler, first to find her voice. "Why would he have this?"

"Never mind."

Liz and Mae made eye contact across the table, both making mental notes of this new bit of information.

Ethan was still staring in amazement at the picture. "When was this taken?"

"A lifetime ago." Cormack snatched the pad away from him, startling the science crewman. "Are we going to keep playing? Or did you even bother to come up with anything beyond this?"

Liz was taken aback at her bunkmate's harsh tone, but then she spotted the barest hint of an evil grin on Cormack's face. She wasn't really angry; but she was definitely dangerous. For the first time, Cutler wondered if she and Lawless hadn't gotten themselves into more than they'd bargained for.

The GM decided to fight fire with fire. "Oh there's plenty more game ahead," she said. She gave a challenging smile and was rewarded with the same from Cormack.

"Bring it on."

*****

The gaming session had broken up just as Archer entered the mess hall. If he was surprised to see five members of his crew packing up datapads and dice at this late hour, he didn't show it. Although he did raise an eyebrow at Travis.

The young man smiled a little sheepishly. "Evening, sir," he said.

"Little later than 'evening,' Ensign," Archer replied.

"Uh… Yes, sir." He nodded and made a hasty exit after the rest of the group.

Archer shook his head, bemused. He'd heard something about the role-playing game being carried on, but hadn't encountered it in person before. It made him wish he had the opportunity to escape reality once in a while, too. It would have been a pleasant change to face down fictional enemies on mythical worlds, rather than dealing with the real thing.

His discovery of the true nature of his mystery woman on Dakala and of the Eska's intentions toward her and her people ate at him. He'd been able to learn a lot from Damrus and his companions. They called the creatures wraiths—beings that could turn into anything, that could read your mind and deceive you—and the Eska hunted them. They didn't believe the wraiths were sentient beings; Archer disagreed. He was determined to find a way to stymie the Eska's hunt.

The meeting he'd had with his senior staff had left them all with much to think about. He hoped the doctor could put the information Archer had given him together with what Phlox himself had discovered from the cellular residue he'd collected, and come up with a solution.

*****

It was quiet in the cabin shared by Ensigns Cutler and Cormack. Stephanie wasn't inclined to break the silence, and her bunkmate took that as a cue to do the same. Liz wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. Finally, she couldn't stand it any more.

"Are you really mad?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Stephanie looked at her distractedly. "What?"

"Are you really mad?" Liz repeated.

Cormack thought carefully before answering. "No." She shook her head. "I'm damn curious to know where you got that picture and how you found about the band, but I'm not mad."

Liz eyed her closely. She wasn't sure, but she thought her friend was smiling just the slightest bit. Unfortunately, she was unable to tell if it was in mirth or in anticipation of revenge. _Better not to ask,_ she decided. _And better to remind her that the blame should be shared._ "Mae learned about the band. She wouldn't tell me where she got the information, though."

"Really? Interesting. Whose idea was the game?"

For a split second Cutler considered pinning more of the blame on her partner in crime, but she didn't have it in her. "It was Mae's idea, but I came up with the specifics," she admitted.

"Interesting," repeated Cormack, nodding to herself as she processed this new information.

"We're going to get it, aren't we?" asked Liz resignedly.

"Why would you say that?"

"Come on!"

"I'm not a big one for holding grudges. I'm too lazy for that; it takes too much energy."

Cutler was doubtful. It was true she'd never known her bunkmate to hold a grudge or seek revenge. _But there's a first time for everything,_ she thought. "You can't make me believe you're not even slightly angry about this."

"As long as you and the others keep your mouths shut, I don't see any reason to be angry." Cormack shrugged. "You got me. Fair and square. I've got to admire the effort put into it, not to mention the patience. How long have we been gaming? And you managed to keep the secret the whole time? Well done."

She sounded sincere, but Liz couldn't help feeling uneasy as the two finished preparing for bed. "Good night," she said warily.

"Good night," replied Cormack in a suspiciously pleasant tone.

Cutler shut off the light and crawled into her bunk. She had the distinct and nasty feeling that revenge, when it finally came, would be as unpleasant as it was unexpected.

*****

"Did you and Captain Archer get everything taken care of down on the planet?"

Trip nodded. "Yep," he said, smiling. "The masking agent Doctor Phlox made worked like a charm. Looks like the Eska are going to have some poor hunting seasons from now on."

"Or until they learn to modify their scanners to get around the masking agent," pointed out Malcolm.

"What have we discussed about being pessimistic?" the blond man chided gently.

Reed had to chuckle. "I'm being realistic. Eventually, their technology will catch up and they'll be able to hunt the wraiths again."

"Maybe by then the wraiths will have figured out another way to hide themselves."

"Optimist."

"Cynic."

They both laughed. "Are you staying the night?" asked Malcolm. He'd already been ready for bed when Trip returned from Dakala for the last time. The engineer's arrival on his doorstep had been a pleasant surprise.

"I think I better not," Tucker answered regretfully. "Neither of us has gotten a lot of sleep the past couple of nights."

"Neither of us has gotten a lot of anything else the past couple of nights, either."

"True. But I better go. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, then." Reed gave his lover a long, slow good night kiss. "Pleasant dreams," he added, opening the door and directing the now befuddled engineer out.

"Uh…no problem there," Trip finally managed to say.

Reed's only reply was a sweet smile and a gently shut door.

_Damn!_ thought Trip, bemusedly. _He did it to me again! He kissed me stupid._ He shook his head and willed himself to walk away. It was difficult, but he forced himself to return to his own cabin. Malcolm's kiss had left him so aroused that he was afraid he was going to have to ask Doctor Phlox for something to help him sleep. Fortunately, the excitement of the past few days and the long sleepless nights had pretty well worn him out. He was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow…and his dreams were very pleasant indeed.

*****

End Log 20  
_(Completed 3 April 02)_

Continued in Log 21


	21. Log 21

**Log Rhythms**  
by DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 21**: (Takes place immediately preceding, during, immediately following the events of _Acquisition_.)  
_[Rating PG]_

*****

"The shuttlepod is aboard, sir," announced Lieutenant Reed from his post at tactical.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Captain Archer turned to Ensign Sato. "Get me Commander Tucker."

"Aye, sir." She promptly opened a comm line to the shuttlepod.

"Welcome home, Trip," said Archer with a smile.

"Thanks, Captain," came the cheerful reply. "Happy to be here. It wasn't the most interesting moon I've visited, but I've got the artifact."

"T'Pol's on her way down to the launch bay now." He nodded at the Vulcan science officer who returned the nod and left the bridge. "Doctor Phlox says you're to go straight into DeCon," Archer continued.

The cheerful tone in Trip's voice faded. "You sure the bio-scan isn't good enough?"

"It's not up to me."

"All right," the engineer replied resignedly. "Tucker out." He really wanted to get a more in-depth look at the strange item he'd brought back from the lunar survey. He guessed it must be a probe of some kind, but he'd had no way of finding out until it could be analyzed properly back on _Enterprise_. He glanced at the object. "I'll see you later," he told it, then proceeded into the airlock.

Tucker removed his EV suit and stripped down to his blues before entering the DeCon chamber. Doctor Phlox was visible through the small window in the far wall. Trip tapped the comm panel and asked, "How long am I going to be stuck in here, Doc?"

"I believe twenty minutes should be sufficient," answered the affable Denobulan. "Make yourself comfortable." He closed the comm and the screen over the window, leaving Trip in solitude.

*****

T'Pol began her study by using her Vulcan scanner to survey the alien artifact. The structure was composed mainly of duratanium, and there was no power signature—at least not at first. As she made her examination, there was a sudden appearance of a dilithium-based power signature. T'Pol glanced up in time to see a small column rise from the center of the object's main body. With a soft hiss, what appeared to be steam began to escape from it. She kept scanning just long enough to determine what it really was.

She moved quickly. Realizing the bay's environmental controls were too far away to be of use, she reached instead for the nearby comm panel and tapped it open. "T'Pol to Engineering. Emergency. Seal off—" It was a far as she got before the gas overcame her and she collapsed to the ground.

"Engineering here," came the response over the still-active comm. "Please repeat Sub-commander T'Pol, please repeat your order—" Then that voice, too, fell silent.

*****

"I'm telling you, we're going to be killed." Cutler looked intently across the mess hall table at her cohort.

Lawless shook her head. "You're overreacting," she replied easily. "I've known her longer than you; she doesn't hold grudges. She gets pissed off, and then she's done." Mae punctuated her declaration with a sip of hot coffee.

"You don't live with her. Trust me on this—she's planning something."

"She said she wasn't mad, so why would she be planning anything?"

"Believe what you want, but I _know _she's _planning something_," insisted Liz. She was about to continue when a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. She tried to focus on Lawless but was unable to make her eyes obey her commands. Slowly she slipped to one side and came to rest uncomfortably against the bulkhead.

Across the table, Mae was having similar problems. She gave a woozy look around the mess hall and watched helplessly as each person there slumped in his or her seat. Finally, she collapsed onto the table top, her head landing just inches from her mug of coffee.

*****

Doctor Kyrin Douglas was alone in his office. His next appointment wasn't due for another twenty minutes, and he was using that time to review his notes on their previous session. Suddenly, he yawned. He blinked several times, trying to make sense out of the letters that were squiggling and sliding on the computer screen. The random thought crossed his mind that he'd forgotten how to read. Before the psychiatrist could puzzle it further, he fell back in his chair. Head tipped back and mouth wide open, he began to snore softly.

*****

Cormack spoke into the communicator she held. "Okay, Ian, how's that relay look now?"

There was a short pause while Ensign Young ran the diagnostic once more. "Looks good," he replied at last. "Close it up and come on out."

"Great. Be right there." Stephanie closed the communicator and tucked it into a pocket. She replaced the panel in the side of the jefferies tube and tossed the tools she'd been using into their case. Without warning, her head swam. "Whoa. Headrush." She sat down heavily and leaned against the wall, waiting for the sensation to pass. It didn't. Unconscious, she slid down the wall onto her side, her cheek pressing against the cold metal grating of the floor.

*****

"Sir," said Reed, "I'm getting an anomalous reading from Launch Bay Two."

Archer looked at the lieutenant over one shoulder. "Can you specify?" he asked.

"Pinpointing now." There was a momentary pause as the readings appeared on the tactical console. "Independent power signature. Dilithium-based," he reported. "And now I'm getting a strange reading from the environmental systems."

The captain tapped the comm panel set in the arm of his chair. "Archer to T'Pol." There was no response. "T'Pol, respond." Still nothing. Archer glanced at Sato.

"Comm systems are working, sir," she answered the unspoken question.

He turned back to Reed. "Get down there."

The Bridge was about as far from the Launch Bay as you could get and still be aboard ship, but the air cyclers on _Enterprise_ were designed for efficiency. As Archer gave his command and Malcolm nodded, about to comply, the gas emanating from the alien artifact reached them. Within moments the last conscious members of the crew passed out.

* * *

The crew were dreaming

*****

T'Pol walked slowly through the grottoes of Deneva Prime. Incongruous jazz music floated in the air around her. Taking out a scanner, she attempted to pinpoint the origin of the music. It led her around steaming vents and small geysers, into and out of caves. It wasn't logical that the music should be playing; she would find its source.

*****

Travis input the coordinates for Draylax on the control console of the old J-Class freighter. He glanced out the forward port at the red giant passing on their starboard side and engaged the _Horizon_'s Warp-One engines

*****

Binary suns beat down on Lawless as she sat in the driveway of the San Francisco home where she'd grown up. Engine parts from her dad's motorcycle were spread out around her. She was thirteen years old again, but still dressed in her Starfleet uniform. Oblivious to the incongruities, she set down her spanner and picked up an oily rag, running it carefully over the bolts in her hand.

"Mae! Mae!" Her little brother came racing across the lawn, trailing a baseball bat.

"Freeze!" she shouted, shooting him a sharp look. The boy stopped in his tracks. "If you mess this up, I'll never get everything back in place."

His eyes widened in horror. "Dad's gonna kill you if you mess up his motorcycle," he declared with the absolute certainty of a nine-year-old.

"I'm not gonna mess anything up, so just shut up. What do you want, anyway?"

"Mom's coming over."

"So?"

"So she's taking us to the Giants' game, remember? Better put that back together before she gets here," he added, pointing at the motorcycle and the bits and bobs strewn around it.

It was Giants night with mom. Mae hadn't remembered. She swore under her breath making her little brother shout, "I'm gonna tell dad you said that!" She just glared at him.

"Buzz off unless you want me to do to you what I did to this engine," she threatened angrily. And to drive her point home she added, "And I don't know how to put _you_ back together!"

The boy considered the severity and likelihood of the threat. Finding it not impossible, he stuck out his tongue at her and ran inside the house.

"Brat," muttered Mae. She turned back to her task, knowing she had only a limited amount of time to reassemble the bike's engine.

Slowly, her face fell. She couldn't remember what to do. Her mind was telling her she'd laid everything out in a pattern; she should know how to reverse it. She didn't. Frantically, she picked up each item in turn, hoping it would spark a memory, but each time she was forced to set it back down again. She was completely at a loss.

*****

Travis input the coordinates for Draylax on the control console of the old J-Class freighter. He glanced out the forward port at the red giant passing on their starboard side and engaged the _Horizon_'s Warp-One engines

*****

"Elizabeth!"

"Yes?" replied the little girl, poking her head around the door to her mother's study. She looked inquiringly at the familiar stranger. Liz's dream self recognized her as her mother while on another level she knew it was someone entirely different.

"What is _this_?" the woman at the desk asked distastefully, pointing a well-manicured finger at a small red object. 

Liz Cutler warily entered the room. It was foggy in the study, but the atmospheric oddity didn't concern her. She moved through the mist and peered where the woman pointed. "_Formica incerta_," the eight-year-old Elizabeth answered promptly. "Of the family _Formicidae_."

"Is it one of yours?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well, take it away anyway."

"All right." Liz looked for something with which to capture the tiny bug. She knew she had to get rid of the thing promptly. She spotted an empty drinking glass, carefully swept the ant into it, and turned to go.

"Where are you going?" her dream-mother demanded.

"Outside, to get rid of it," answered Liz, perplexed.

"It will just come right back in if you do that."

"I'll take it far away from the house," insisted the child. "It won't come back. Honest."

"See that it doesn't."

"Yes, ma'am." 

Liz left the study, the fog trailing in ribbons behind her. Her analytical adult mind wondered just how the woman expected her to keep tabs on a single miniscule ant. The child Liz didn't care. Making certain she wasn't observed, she quickly bounded upstairs to her room and shut the door behind her, leaving the fog behind in the hallway. Carefully, gently, she shook the little fire ant out of the glass into a small aquarium lined with dirt and long grass. 

"Now don't you come out of there," she jokingly scolded the bug as she secured the aquarium's lid. Ignoring her completely, the ant began to examine its new home. Liz watched it, wondering if it would survive or be eaten by the tank's regular occupant. She would watch and wait and see what the praying mantis would do to the new arrival.

*****

Travis input the coordinates for Draylax on the control console of the old J-Class freighter. He glanced out the forward port at the red giant passing on their starboard side and engaged the _Horizon_'s Warp-One engines

*****

Kyrin stood in an open field. The grass was as high as his waist and dotted with wildflowers—everything a bit too brilliantly colored to be real. Something was in his hand. He held it up and regarded the object closely. Black button eyes stared blankly back at him from a fuzzy golden face. It occurred to him to wonder why he had the stuffed bear. He'd given it to his niece Leia on her second birthday; what was it doing here?

Looking around, he noticed a large tree not far off. A bee's nest hung from it. Wondering if they were the right sort of bees, he took Pooh's paw and the two strolled slowly toward the tree.

*****

It was a surprisingly bright day out on English Bay. Cormack looked around the sailboat, squinting in the sunlight that reflected almost painfully off the water.

"Here," said Ryn coming up the gangplank. "Take this." She unceremoniously handed her sister a baby. The child was sleeping, so Stephanie didn't object.

"What's her name?" Stephanie asked, looking down into the face of the newest addition to the family.

"Lalita," answered Gemma who was just coming aboard. She carried a shining silver-colored cooler and was followed closely by their son, Kevin.

At the sound of her name, the child in Cormack's arms began to squirm. "You might want to take her back," she suggested.

"Right," teased Kathryn, laughing. "Wouldn't want you to have to deal with anything but a perfect child." She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder in a habitual gesture and gathered up her daughter.

"Where's grandma?" demanded Kevin suddenly. The four-year-old turned big brown eyes on his aunt. "Where'd she go?"

Stephanie eyed him innocently. "Gosh, I don't know. I think she's hiding. Why don't you look below decks?" In truth, she knew her mother was down in the boat's small cabin, but she also knew her nephew's favorite game was hide and seek.

The boy ran down the steps, gleefully shouting, "Grandma! Grandma!"

"Ready to go?" asked Gemma.

Cormack looked around her. "Aren't we missing something?"

"Food, drinks, sunscreen, children," Gemma listed lightly. "Ryn, have we forgotten something?"

"Only if there's another kid somewhere I don't know about," joked her partner. They both laughed.

Cormack wasn't satisfied. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her cut-off denim shorts. "I still think we're forgetting something," she insisted, continuing to look around—although now they were in the boat's cabin, seated around three sides of the table. She pulled a small black and gray box from her pocket.

"What's that?" asked her sister, settling her squirming daughter to suckle hungrily at one of her breasts.

"My communicator."

"Your what?"

"My communicator," Cormack repeated. "So the ship can contact me if there's an emergency. Or vice versa."

Ryn looked at her curiously. "What ship?"

"Well_Enterprise_, of course." Her response garnered only blank looks from her sister and sister-in-law. "Here, I'll show you." She flipped the communicator open expecting to hear the normal chirp as the comm automatically connected to the ship's systems. There was only silence from the device. Puzzled but determined, she spoke into it. "Cormack to _Enterprise_." There was a pause. She tried again. "Cormack to _Enterprise_. Please respond."

Gemma gave her a concerned but sympathetic look. "Perhaps they're out of range," she suggested gently.

"No! They're there!" More frantically now, she continued to hail the ship.

"Oo!" shouted Kevin, excited. "Can I see?" He reached out, trying to get a closer look at the communicator.

Gemma intercepted his grasping arm with practiced ease. "Not right now, sweetie," she said. "Why don't you go above and help grandma, okay?"

"Please, _mata_? _Pleeeeease?_"

"No."

Kevin sulked but obeyed. He stomped angrily up the stairs where they heard his grandma greet him. Her cheerful tones were a stark contrast to the increasing desperation in Stephanie's voice.

Ryn and Gemma exchanged worried looks. Finally, it was Kathryn who spoke. "Stephanie, put it away," she said firmly but kindly. "Enough is enough. You're going to upset the baby with your game."

Stephanie blinked at her, uncomprehending. "Game? What do you mean?"

"Please. You know there's nothing out there. Let it go."

Slowly, Cormack began to understand. They had been humoring her, but now they had stopped. There was no ship, no _Enterprise_. It was all a fantasy of her own making. She looked down helplessly at the device in her hand—plastic parts, painted dials, not even a battery power source to create the little sound effects she expected to hear. Hands shaking, she closed the toy and gently tucked it back into her pocket.

*****

Travis input the coordinates for Draylax on the control console of the old J-Class freighter. He glanced out the forward port at the red giant passing on their starboard side and engaged the _Horizon_'s Warp-One engines

*****

It was raining in London, a cold spring drizzle. Malcolm didn't mind. He liked the way it washed the air clean and left the old buildings shining with wetness. And on top of that, the gray skies suited his mood. He zipped his jacket up to the top and hunched his shoulders against the cold and wet. 

He had no particular destination in mind; he just felt the need to walk. Unable to bear the silence and emptiness of his flat any longer, he'd grabbed his coat and headed out. Turning right onto Warwick Road he bypassed the tube entrance, opting instead to wander the streets of Earl's Court.

The geography of London warped in his dream, bringing him quickly to Paddington Station. He entered the terminal and found the gate for the Heathrow Express. Resettling the single duffel bag that suddenly hung from his shoulder, he climbed aboard the shuttle and found a seat.

* * *

On the bridge of _Enterprise_, Malcolm's eyelids flickered slightly. He was draped awkwardly back over the tactical console. Where the captain had been was now only an empty chair. Sato was missing as well. Mayweather's situation was just the opposite; the helmsman's seat had been removed completely, and he was left lying on the deckplating.

Reed tried to crawl back from unconsciousness, but the anesthetic released by the alien artifact held. Unwillingly, he slipped back into the dream that was as much memory as imagination.

* * *

He was back in their flathis flat now. Sunshine streamed through the window, catching the motes of dust that hung in the air. Malcolm looked around. To the eye, it was almost as if nothing had changed. If it weren't for one or two little differences, he could imagine he wasn't alone. The greatest difference, he realized, was the silence. It seemed to hang in the air like a tangible thing. He hadn't understood how much ambient noise his partner had generated until now. He found he missed it.

Grabbing a jacket from the rack by the door, he pulled it on and left the flat. He exited the building, stepping out into the constant drizzle of rain. He didn't mind; the gray skies suited his mood. Bypassing the nearby tube stop, he soon found himself outside Paddington Station once more.

Reed shouldered his duffel bag and found a seat aboard the Heathrow shuttle

* * *

Lawless opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at the mess halland it was sideways. She raised her head, disgustedly wiping saliva from her mouth and cheek. "Ugh," she grunted, taking her napkin and cleaning up first herself and then the table.

Across from her, Cutler moaned. "Ow," she said before she'd even opened her eyes. Carefully, she pushed herself away from the bulkhead and looked at Lawless. "I don't think I can move my neck."

"What the hell happened?" wondered Mae, glancing groggily around the room. One by one, people were waking up, each looking just as confused as she felt. Lawless was silently grateful she hadn't passed out in her coffee as she watched one crewman pull his face from a plate of linguine. Compared to that, the state in which she'd woken up didn't seem so bad. Of course, that didn't mean she was going to share that information with anyone.

"How long have we been out?" asked Liz.

Mae glanced at her coffee cup, took a tiny sip and made a face. "Long enough for this to be stone cold," she replied. She rose stiffly and wove her way unsteadily to the instrument panel by the door. She called up the ship's time. "Four hours." Several people looked at her, and she repeated more loudly, "We've been out for four hours."

There were a few mutters of astonishment at the news. Liz stood and joined Mae. "Any idea what might have happened?"

"No, but I'm going to see what I can find out. I'm heading to Engineering. If everyone's been unconscious for the past four hours, there' s no telling what state the ship's in." She spoke up again to everyone in the room. "I recommend everyone get to their posts—or get cleaned up and then get to your posts," she added wryly with a glance at the linguine-coated crewman. The young man shrugged sheepishly and nodded his agreement. "Watch yourselves. We don't know what happened, and it's possible there are hostile lifeforms aboard. Go in pairs and watch your backs."

"I better get to sickbay," said Cutler. "If everyone's in the shape we are, I think Phlox is going to have his hands full administering analgesics—and I want to be at the front of the line."

"I'll walk with you. It's on my way." Liz looked at Mae quizzically. "Okay," the engineer amended, "it's not so much on my way as not out of my way. Let's go."

*****

Douglas came to and coughed. He sat up and looked around. The chronometer on his desk told him he'd been asleep for four hours. He wondered why his appointment hadn't arrived and wakened him. It was unlike the crewman to miss a session—but then, it was unlike him to fall asleep in the middle of the day.

Deciding something was definitely not right—whether with himself or with the ship, he didn't know—he rose and headed to sickbay.

*****

Slowly, very slowly, Cormack woke. She groaned slightly as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She massaged sensation back into her cheek, feeling the imprint of the grating that covered it. "Bet that's attractive," she muttered sarcastically.

She had no clue what had happened or how long she'd been lying there. Logic suggested if it were very long, someone would have come looking for her—but logic didn't know about the knock-out gas. Figuring whatever had happened couldn't be good, she grabbed the nearby toolbox and headed out of the jefferies tube.

In the Armory, others were coming to. She looked around, but didn't see Ensign Young anywhere. She couldn't know he'd been revived earlier to help in guarding the aliens who had boarded _Enterprise_ as they returned every piece of property they had stolen.

Cormack set down the toolbox and helped crewman Martinez to her feet. "You all right?" she asked.

"_Si_," Martinez answered a little shakily. "What happened?"

"I wish I knew." Certain the crewman was steady on her own, Cormack stepped to the main control console and ran an internal scan of the ship's occupants. Picking up no anomalies, she turned her attention outward. Other than a fading ion trail, there was nothing out of the ordinary. _Wonder what that's about?_ She ran another, more detailed scan of the ion trail and cross-checked it against Starfleet records. Finding nothing there, she accessed the Vulcan database. Still, she had no luck. "Weird," she muttered to herself.

*****

"Malcolm?"

Reed's eyes fluttered open, and he fought to focus on the face before him. "Trip?"

The engineer smiled. "The one and only."

Malcolm's brow furrowed in consternation. "Why are you wearing a science crewman's uniform?"

"It's a long story." He set down the hypospray he held and reached around the lieutenant, giving an arm of support to help him up. Reed winced at the movement. "Take it slow," advised Tucker. "You've been lying here for almost four hours."

"What happened?" the tactical officer asked, massaging the back of his neck with one hand.

"Alien raiders." Trip placed a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, caught his eyes. "You going to be okay?"

Reed started to nod, thought better of it. "Fine."

"Okay." The engineer retrieved the hypospray and moved around the deck to where Mayweather lay. However, the young man was already starting to come to when he reached him. Tucker helped him to his feet and into the helm station chair, now back in its usual place and securely bolted to the deckplating.

Something Trip had said finally registered in Malcolm's bleary mind. "Did you say alien raiders?" he asked.

"Yep. There'll be a full briefing a little later, but turns out that artifact I brought back was planted on that moon on purpose." Certain that Travis wasn't going to pass out again, Tucker pocketed the hypospray. He leaned against the back of the tactical console, wanting to be close to Malcolm but not wanting it to look too obvious.

Archer entered the Bridge then, looking like he'd been through the wars.

"Captain," said Trip, "you sure you don't want to check in with the doc?"

"It can wait." Archer stepped immediately to the unmanned comm station and opened up a line throughout the ship. "All hands, this is the Captain. I want checks run on all ship's systems and status reports from department heads as soon as possible. Command staff will meet at 0800 tomorrow morning for a full briefing of today'sunusual events. Archer out." He closed the comm and sighed.

*****

Coming back from dinner that night, ship's counselor Doctor Kyrin Douglas was surprised to find no less than three dozen messages requesting appointments with him. Understanding dawned as he found each one wanted to talk to him about a dream.

*****

End Log 21  
_(Completed 16 April 02)_

Continued in Log 22


	22. Log 22

****

Log Rhythms  
by DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 22**: (Following immediately after the episode _Oasis_.)  
_[Rating PG-13]_

*****

Cormack and Lawless strolled down a corridor on _Enterprise_'s E-deck. Both were dressed for a workout in loose draw-string pants and tank-tops. Stephanie was already barefoot in anticipation of their yoga session while Mae preferred to wait until after they'd finished with the weights to take off her sneakers. Each carried a small towel and a rolled up mat.

"Can you imagine what it must have been like?" Cormack said. "I mean, twenty-two years with no one but your father and a bunch of holograms for company? Yikes."

Mae considered it. "There were times growing up I might have wished my brother was a hologram. Then I could have shut him off when I wanted to."

Both women laughed as they reached the ship's gym and went inside. There were a handful of people already there, but no one was using the weights. Putting their mats and towels aside, they released a weight bar from the rack and adjusted it for a warm-up set of bench presses.

"And think about it," Stephanie continued as she stood at the head of the bench, spotting her friend, "they'll be on their way home in less than twenty-four hours."

"Commander Tucker said it's going to take them a year to get to Kantare," replied Mae between presses.

The blonde gave a small shrug that went unwitnessed. "What's a year in space when you've spent so many stranded on an empty planet? At least they'll be getting somewhere."

Mae agreed but didn't respond, her energy focused on her warm-up.

"Think the Captain'll let us hang out another day to see their launch?"

Slowly Lawless lowered the bar into its resting brackets. She sat up. "I think so." She and Cormack swapped places. "The Commander is down on the planet right now delivering a protein resequencer."

"What for?"

"Ice cream."

Had she been in the right position Cormack would have favored her friend with a perplexed look. As it was, she merely raised an eyebrow and grunted quizzically.

"Liana—did you meet Liana?"

"No."

"Liana discovered ice cream while touring the ship. Commander Tucker wanted to make sure she could have it on the way back to Kantare, so he and I spent half an hour programming the resequencer for it."

"Why did it take so long?" asked Stephanie, setting the weight bar in its rests. The pair swapped places once again.

"The programming didn't. It took that long for him to decide what five flavors to program it with."

Cormack chuckled. "Now that's funny."

*****

Reed was turning in early. The shot he'd taken from the Kantaren energy weapon hadn't done any real harm; it was that in combination with the ensuing chase and fight that had worn him out. "Still," he muttered to the empty cabin, "better than being stuck underground with a bullet in your leg." That day on Terra Nova so many months ago had not been a pleasant one for the tactical officer. He considered himself fortunate that this time his recovery didn't involve surgery. Instead all he needed was the chance to relax and recuperate in the comfort of his own quarters.

Unfortunately the time alone gave him the opportunity to think about the events of the past few days.

He sat down at the desk and set the computer to record. "Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, personal log" He paused, uncertain what it was he wanted to say. He was feeling uneasy. A little part of him knew it was unfounded, but he couldn't quite convince himself that little part was right. "Trip's been down on the planet a lot. I know he's just there as an engineer, but I can't help wondering if there isn't some sort of connection between him and the Kantaren woman, Liana."

Malcolm thought back on Trip's brief outburst in the Captain's ready room.

_"I hear you've been spending a lot of time with Liana," Archer had said._

Immediately, Trip was on the defensive. "Did T'Pol say something? Sir I swear I've been nothing but a perfect gentleman."

Archer gave him a puzzled look that was echoed by Malcolm. "I'm sure you have, Trip. This doesn't have anything to do with that."

"Oh," the engineer had answered.

_A little uncomfortably,_ Reed remembered thinking at the time. Trip may have simply been embarrassed, but Malcolm had been unable to gauge just what was going on inside his partner's head. Tucker had been unwilling to make eye contact, and the moment had passed as the Captain moved on to tell him what they had discovered.

That was all past now, but Malcolm couldn't help dwelling on the brief scene. He continued his recording.

"I wonder if he blames me at all for uncovering Liana's lies. It's all for the better now that I did; she and her father will finally be able to go home. But does Trip see what I did asI don't knowa betrayal? I was only doing what the Captain asked—researching the Kantarens. Still Computer, pause recording."

The computer chirped its compliance and Malcolm sat back in the desk chair, trying to formulate what he wanted to say. The fact was he'd enjoyed punching holes in the alien woman's story. It was petty, but it was true; he was jealous. Logically, he knew he had no reason to be. Trip hadn't given any indication that he was attracted to Liana. He was an engineer and had been acting as such while on the planet. It was Malcolm's own insecurity that was causing his doubts.

"Fool me once" he muttered. It was an unfair comparison. Trip had never fooled him, never betrayed him. To put him in the came category as He stopped, not caring to follow that train of thought back to the person at its origin.

"Computer," he spoke up. "Cancel recording and delete log entry, authorization Reed theta zero seven, confirm."

The computer chirruped once more, the entry erased.

Reed rose and got ready for bed. With luck, he'd be able to concentrate enough to get through another chapter of the book he was currently reading before going to sleep.

*****

The door chimed. Archer looked up from the computer and called out, "Come in."

The ready room door opened and Tucker stepped inside. "Evening, Captain," he said.

"How did your visit go? Did Ezral and Liana get everything they need to get home?" asked Archer, gesturing for the engineer to have a seat. He rose from his desk and joined the younger man in the more comfortable chairs across the room.

"Yep." There was a pause before Trip continued. "What'd youwant to see me about?" he asked finally.

Archer didn't know just how to begin—ironic considering he was the one who had requested Trip come see him upon his return from the planet. "Iwanted to ask you about something that happened earlier. Something you said."

Tucker was at a loss trying to come up with something he might have said that would have upset the Captain enough to call him to task for it. He couldn't think of anything. "Sir?"

"You implied that T'Pol might have a reason to say somethingabout you and Liana."

"Oh. That. I was just jumping to conclusions," Trip said contritely. "I'll apologize to her if you think it's necessary. I never meant to suggest that she'd betelling tale out of class."

Archer was even more confused. "No. That's not what I meant." He paused, thinking. "I mean Was there something for her to be 'telling tales' about?"

Tucker's eyes widened. "No, sir!" he said emphatically.

"Calm down, Trip." The Captain put out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I didn't think their was, but the way you reacted You can understand, right?"

Deliberately, Trip nodded. "Yes, sir. I suppose it could've seemedodd."

"Exactly. I just wanted to double check. We don't know anything about Kantaren mating habits. I wanted to be sure we weren't going to have any more little surprises—like with the Xyrillians." His mouth quirked in a teasing and suggestive smile.

Tucker took the ribbing as the apology it was meant to be. "No," he agreed. "We wouldn't want that."

"Besides," continued Archer, biting the bullet, "Malcolm wouldn't have been too pleased, would he?" He waited, bracing himself for Trip's reaction. He'd observed the growing closeness between his Chief Engineer and his Armory Officer. He only hoped he'd made the right assumption of its nature.

The silence grew, and Archer began to regret his decision to speak.

"No," said Trip finally, startling the Captain. "He'd've been pretty pissed off, I bet." He looked over at his old friend. "How'd you know?"

"Like any scientist, through observation and deduction I made a guess."

Trip chuckled a little, as Archer had hoped he would. "What are you going to do?" the commander asked.

"Nothing. There's no regulation against fraternization between officers. You two are adults. Whatever happens, I expect you to continue behaving like adults. There is something I wonder, though."

"What?"

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Trip looked down at his hands, realizing they were clasped so tightly together the knuckles were turning white. He made the conscious effort to separate them. "I guess I wasn't sure what you'd say," he said, not looking up.

"You're my friend, Trip, not just my Chief Engineer. We've known each other a long time. Long enough, I hope, that when something good happens to you, you'll let me know."

"So you think it's a good thing?" The fair-haired man looked at his mentor and friend.

"Yes, I do. You seem happier than I've ever seen youexcept maybe when I told you you were posted to _Enterprise_," Archer added with a grin. "And God knows I've never seen Malcolm smile so much!"

Trip laughed. "He told me Ensign Cormack likes to call him 'Lieutenant Stoic'," he replied. "Guess she'll have to change that nickname, huh?"

"I think so," agreed Archer, chuckling.

*****

"Mind if I join you, Lieutenant?"

Reed looked up into the pleasant, if somewhat groggy, visage of Ensign Cormack. "Of course not," he replied, gesturing to a chair.

"Thanks." She sat, never letting go of her precious morning latté.

"How many of those do you actually drink each day?" her C.O. asked, curious.

"Usually only onebut that one is required." She emphasized her point with a sip and a sigh.

Reed chortled and shook his head. "I just don't see the appeal."

"We all have our little quirks. I for one could only eat _that_ in the morning" She gestured at his ham and cheese omelet, toast, and juice. "when I was hung over."

"I thought you didn't drink," said Reed, remembering a brief conversation they'd once had.

"I don't."

He realized what she was implying and suddenly recalled what else she had said that previous time: _Not anymore._ It occurred to him that he must already have known; it was just now the knowledge was manifesting itself in his conscious mind. "Ah," was all he could come up with to say.

Stephanie recognized his discomfort and immediately tried to assuage it. "It's okay. I don't mind talking about it. It just doesn't come up in conversation very often," she added with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

With a small but thankful sigh, Reed took her attempt at lightening the mood and ran with it. "One does wonder how you get through the morning on nothing but a little calcium and an artificial stimulant," he teased. "Am I going to have to worry about you collapsing from hunger in the middle of an alien attack?"

"No worries there. I eat plenty, just not in the mornings."

Lawless just happened to be passing within earshot as Cormack spoke. "Hey, Stephanie. I didn't see you there," she said, turning and approaching her friend. If anything, the engineer looked even more bleary-eyed than Cormack. She nodded a tired greeting to Reed. "Morning, Lieutenant. Mind if I sit?"

"Please do," he replied.

"Sit," added Stephanie. "Your crunchies will cease to be crunchy if you don't eat them quickly."

Nodding at the undeniable logic, Lawless sat and took a spoonful of cereal.

Cormack had another swallow of her latté and would have sworn she could feel the caffeine happily flooding her system. "If you don't mind my saying it, you look like shit this morning," she said to her friend. 

"Fuck you," was the engineer's flat reply.

Cormack laughed. Reed's eyes widened.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Lawless said, flushing a little.

"Quite all right. It's not as if I'm unfamiliar with the phrase," he said dryly. "I'm just not used to hearing it quite so unprovoked or so early in the morning. Except when I was quarantined with Stephanie, here."

"He's got a point, Mae," put in Stephanie. "You sound like me this a.m. What's up?"

"I didn't sleep well," Lawless admitted reluctantly. "Well, I suppose to have not slept well I would have had to sleep at all, and I didn't. That's why the Cormack-like attitude and beverage choice." She took a swallow of her own steaming latté.

"Why didn't you go see the doc? Get yourself something to help you sleep?"

"That would have made too much sense. And by the time I'd finally decided to do it, it was time to get up anyway."

"Maybe if things are light in Engineering, Commander Tucker'll let you off duty early."

"Maybe." But Mae sounded doubtful.

At the mention of Trip, a Reed's expression grew briefly grim, but the moment passed too quickly for either of his companions to notice.

*****

"Sir?"

Tucker looked up from what he was doing. "Yeah?"

"I'm reading a power drain. It's minor, but it's definitely there."

"Source?" He climbed quickly to the central station where Lieutenant Hess was monitoring the ship's systems.

"It's gone now, but" She trailed off. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to trace the power drain.

"What is it?" Trip demanded.

"I think it was coming from the Armory."

"The Armory?" echoed Tucker. Before he could continue, an alert appeared on the screen in front of them.

"There it is again!" exclaimed Hess.

Trip activated the comm. "Tucker to Reed."

The British Armory Officer's clipped tones came back at him. "I'm a bit busy, Commander. Can this wait?"

"No. What's going on down there?"

In the Armory on F-deck, Reed fought to keep the exasperation from his voice. "This really isn't a good time. I'm in the middle of an experiment."

"Well your 'experiment' is causing fluctuations in _Enterprise_'s power grid. So why don't you take a little break until I can come down there and see what the hell you're doing to my ship?"

There was a brief silence before Reed replied. "Understood."

"Power back to normal," reported Hess.

"If you need me, I'll be in the Armory." Tucker all but leapt the half-dozen steps down to the main engineering deck and strode determinedly out.

Watching him go, the lieutenant could only shake her head and be glad she wasn't the one on the receiving end of her C.O.'s temper.

*****

Cormack looked at Reed. "I'll" She paused, not knowing what she was going to suggest. She wanted to make a discrete exit, knowing Commander Tucker was on his way down and not wanting to be witness to the argument she expected was coming with him. It wasn't that she wanted to avoid getting chewed out by a superior officer; she just didn't want to watch her own C.O. getting chewed out—for his sake more than hers. 

She needn't have worried.

Tucker entered the Armory, still striding forcefully. "Ensign," he began, "make yourself scarce."

"Sir." She shot Reed a sympathetic glance, but he was staring straight ahead at the Chief Engineer, no sign of emotion on his rigid features. Cormack didn't like that look, but there was nothing she could do. She hustled out of the Armory, leaving the two men alone.

Trip looked at Reed. "So? Want to tell me what you're doing that's so important you could disrupt the ship's power grid, but not important enough to let the Chief Engineer know about it?"

Reed returned the look with a cool stare. "I'm working on developing an energy force field. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept from the time you spent on the _Estvali_ ship."

Tucker's eyes narrowed slightly at the implied condescension but let it go.

"I'd run enough simulations to know the drain on the ship's power would be minimal—nothing that would effect normal functions," the lieutenant continued calmly, although under the surface he was fuming. "I can assure you, everything was under control and posed no risks to this vessel or anyone aboard."

"I'd like to be the one to say what poses a risk to this vessel," Trip said sharply. "Let's see these simulations."

Reed gave a tight nod and called up the simulation results on the main control console. He stepped aside, allowing Tucker enough room to view the screen clearly. The engineer leaned in and examined the reports carefully.

"What about this?" he demanded, pointing at a series of figures. "You didn't think this would pose a risk?"

"Structural integrity was never compromised," answered Reed stiffly. "That was a single simulation, and I altered the necessary programs to compensate before we began actual tests. If you'd like to see the results of the work I've just been doing?" He keyed in the command to recall the data from the live tests he and Cormack had been performing.

Tucker examined them very carefully before finally nodding. "Okay," he said, his anger abated. He looked at Malcolm. "Just from now on, let me know when you're doing this kind of thing, will you?"

"Of course."

There was something in his tone that made Trip pause. He regarded the dark-haired tactical officer for a moment but could find nothing unusual in his expression or stance. Mentally shrugging off any doubts, he said, "I'll see you later."

Malcolm said nothing, but gave another tight nod. He watched the engineer exit the Armory and waited a few seconds for his anger to subside before opening a comm. "Reed to Cormack."

"Cormack here. Go ahead."

A small, mirthless smile quirked the corner of his lips as he replied, "It's safe to come back."

*****

"Captain, we're being hailed by the Kantaren ship," said Ensign Sato from the comm station.

"Put it through." The captain sat up a little straighter as Hoshi patched the communication through to the main viewer. The gray-bearded image of Ezral appeared on screen. "What can we do for you?" said Archer with a smile.

"You've already done everything we could have askedand more." The irony of the comment wasn't lost on _Enterprise_'s Captain. "I simply wanted to inform you that we'll be taking off momentarily."

"Glad to hear it. We wish you and your crew a safe journey home."

"Thank you, Captain."

The communication ended and the image of the alien man was replaced by the image of the planet that had been home to the crashed Kantaren ship for the past twenty-two years.

"They're firing thrusters," Mayweather reported from the helm.

They watched as the ship rose languorously from the planet surface. It left the atmosphere and turned smoothly in the vacuum of space, setting its sites for home. With a flash of light, the Kantarens engaged their warp engines and were gone.

"Travis, lay in a new course," said Archer.

"Heading?" asked the young ensign.

"One one three mark seven."

"One one three mark seven, aye. Course laid in."

"Ahead warp two." 

Mayweather engaged the ship's warp engines and they were on their way, streaking off in a direction nearly opposite to the path the Kantarens had taken.

"According to the Vulcan database," said Archer, leaning back into the captain's chair, "there's an inhabited system just a few light years from here. It's not on our scheduled path, but we still haven't replaced our supplies so I thought we'd check it out."

*****

"We've gone to warp," commented Cormack offhandedly.

Reed paused at the Armory's main console, noted the change in the feeling and sound of the ship. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "You're right."

Stephanie noticed the subtle change in her C.O. and friend. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Everything okay?" she asked, trying to maintain the air of nonchalance with which she'd started the conversation.

"Hmm? Fine," answered Reed. He was lying, and Cormack knew it. The ensign let it go for the moment. They were still working out the bugs on the new force field; there would be time off duty to ask him what was up.

*****

Lawless couldn't help herself. She tried to stifle—or at least hide—the huge yawn. She failed.

"Tired, Ensign?" asked Tucker.

"No, sir," she lied.

He gave her look, joking, "Then I must be boring as hell."

"No, sir!"

Trip laughed. "I'm kidding, Mae," he reassured her. "You do look tired, though. You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I just didn't get much sleep last night." _Try any,_ a little voice in her head said. She gave it a mental snarl, and the little voice shut up.

"Let me guess. You were up late gaming with Travis and the others, right?"

"Actually, no. I justcouldn't sleep."

"I did my share of tossing and turning last night, too. Turned out the magnetic constrictors were slightly out of alignment overnight. Maybe that's what kept you up. I know I can't sleep real well when the engines aren't running right." He didn't mention that lack of company had also kept him from sleeping soundly. He was surprised how quickly he'd become accustomed to sharing a bunk with Malcolm—so quickly, in fact, he found he missed it on those nights they spent apart.

"I doubt it," Lawless was saying, "but I'm willing to believe anything if it means I can get some sleep tonight."

"Well, I took care of it first thing this morning, but if that wasn't it you might want to see the doc before you turn in tonight."

"I plan to."

*****

"Tell me again where we're going?" said Liz Cutler.

"The Tandaran system," replied Travis. "Captain Archer's hoping we can do some barter and trade with them, seeing as we still need to restock some supplies."

"I've never heard of the Tandarans."

"Neither had I, but it's in the Vulcan database. There's not a lot of information, but Sub-commander T'Pol couldn't come up with a reason not to go, so"

"I'll have to take a look at the database. You never know when the captain might need a trained exobiologist." She gave him a wide, hopeful smile.

"If it comes up in conversation, I'll mention your name," Travis said with a grin.

The two were enjoying a little quiet time together before their friends were due for another gaming session. They were nearly done with the current campaign; Liz only had one or two little surprises left to throw at them. If they stayed on task, they'd be done very soon. She wasn't looking forward to finishing up the game, though. The prank she and Lawless had played on her bunkmate gnawed at her. However, Cutler had managed to convince herself they would be safe from Cormack's wrath as long as the current scenario was still running. She had no basis for this belief, of course, but she found comfort in it nonetheless.

She snuggled in a little closer to Travis on the bench where they sat staring out at the stars. He put an arm around her shoulders, and she relaxed into his touch. At least here she felt safe no matter what her bunkmate might be plotting. Here was a place she could relax and forget about work, games, and the real world. Liz gave a small, contented sigh.

"What was that for?" asked Travis gently, glancing at her.

"Nothing," she answered. "Justhappy."

Mayweather smiled broadly and held her a little closer.

*****

Trip was at a loss. He'd stopped by the Armory when he got off duty, but Malcolm had already gone. He'd tried catching him at dinner but had failed there, too. Later that evening, he stopped by the gym. There he found Cormack in what he considered a highly disturbing and improbable yoga pose, but there was no Malcolm to be seen.

"You just missed him," Cormack told him in a slightly strained voice.

"Thanks," was all Tucker said before heading back out into the corridor. He didn't want to prolong the conversation; he was afraid the ensign would hurt herself trying to talk to him while she was tied in a knot.

He was beginning to wish he'd simply checked the ship's computer for Reed's location before ever leaving Engineering. "That would have been too easy," he muttered, striding down the corridor toward Malcolm's cabin. But he was out of luck there, too. _This is getting stupid,_ he thought. _He couldn't do a better job of avoiding me if he tried._ One last inspiration struck him, and he headed toward the section's shower room.

One shower was running when he arrived. Of course, it hadn't occurred to him that he'd have no way of knowing who it was until the person emerged from the shower stall. If it was indeed Malcolm, that would be great; his search would be over. If it _wasn't_ Malcolm  He tried not to think of the consequences should he sit down to wait and have it turn out to be someone else.

The shower shut off, and he turned to make a hasty, and hopefully quiet, exit. No such luck. He moved too swiftly and banged his shin on the bench. The impact was so unexpected and painful he couldn't help letting out a startled exclamation.

Reed's face appeared over the stall door. His dark hair was wet and tousled, and Trip found himself smiling at the picture it created. "Hi," he said.

"Hi, yourself," replied Reed, a little perplexed.

"I was looking for you."

"Here I am." There was a small pause. "Are you all right?" asked Malcolm finally.

"Huh?" Trip glanced down; he was still rubbing the sore spot on his leg from where he'd collided with the bench. "Oh, yeah," he said, straightening up. "Justran into the bench."

"So it seems." Still a bit uncertain as to the reason for Trip's presence right here and right now, Malcolm dried himself off and pulled on his burgundy-colored bathrobe. He stepped out of the stall, towel draped over one shoulder and sweaty work-out gear in one hand. "Was there something you wanted to see me about?" he asked when Tucker made no further attempt to begin a conversation.

"Are youokay? I mean, after that attack yesterday," Tucker added hastily, wondering why talking to his partner had suddenly become so difficult.

"Fine, thank you. Did you get the Kantarens everything they needed before they left?" There was a cool politeness to Reed's tone.

"Yeahyeah."

Silence.

"Well, if there's nothing more—" Malcolm began.

Trip stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "I" He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say, but he knew he didn't want his lover to go just yet. He'd finally achieved his goal—he'd found Malcolm—but now the whole search seemed a bit silly and out of proportion. He flushed slightly, feeling oddly self-conscious. "I haven't seen much of you the past few days."

"You were awfully busy." Reed stepped around Tucker and over to the laundry chute. He tossed the dirty clothes and towel into it.

The engineer watched him quizzically. There was a certain aloofness to Malcolm's attitude that mystified him, and he couldn't make heads or tails of where this little chat was going. "Yeah," Trip said. "I guess I justmissed you."

Ever since they'd met the Kantaren woman, Liana, there had been a small kernel of doubt plaguing Reed. At Trip's words, it melted. He said simply, "I missed you, too."

Trip smiled, still strangely shy. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

Tucker's smile grew. "Walk you home?" he offered lightly.

"Only if you promise to stay," answered Malcolm coyly, surprising himself. _Bit of a one-eighty, Malcolm,_ his mind told him somewhat acerbically. _Just getting back to where I should have been all the time,_ he answered himself, ending the argument.

"Sounds good." Tucker reached out again and this time took Malcolm's hand. Reed winced slightly at the touch and pulled away. Trip's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I think I over did it a little with the punching bag this evening."

"Let me see."

"It's fine."

"Lieutenant"

"I'm standing here in my bathrobe and you're pulling rank?" But Malcolm's tone belied his irritated words, and he held out his hand. "It didn't hurt earlier."

Trip took his hand gently, examining the bruised and swollen knuckles. "That bag must've really pissed you off," he said.

Malcolm gritted his teeth. "I suppose." He sucked air in sharply through his teeth, wincing. "If you're done, _doctor_" he began bitingly.

"That's a good idea." Trip released his hold. "Come on."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We're going to sickbay." He turned to go, but Malcolm stayed put. "Come on," Tucker said, again.

"I'll be fine. A little ice, and it will be as good as new."

"Good as new, huh?" Trip reached out once more and took Reed's hand carefully; he wanted to make a point, not make matters worse.

Malcolm cried out, pulling swiftly away. "Agh! Bastard!"

"I love you, too," replied his partner sarcastically. "Let's go."

"Can I stop and put some pants on?" demanded Malcolm with equal sarcasm as Trip ushered him out into the corridor.

"Not on my account," the engineer replied with a smirk. Then his expression turned more serious. "What the hell were you doing to do that much damage to yourself, anyway?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing," echoed Trip doubtfully.

"I must have gotten a bit overzealous with my work-out. That's all. I didn't even notice until" He suspended the thought as they passed a sciences crewman. The young man gave them a mildly puzzled look but continued on without comment. "Until you took my hand," finished Reed once the crewman was out of earshot.

"Your hand is the size of a grapefruit, and you're telling me you didn't _notice_?"

"You're exaggerating. And no." He didn't want to discuss it any further. Reed knew why he hadn't noticed the damage he was doing to himself; telling Trip wouldn't make it better, especially now he knew he'd been completely off-base in his assumptions. _Never assume, right, Malcolm?_ he thought. Aloud, he said, "Can we drop this subject, please?"

Trip shrugged skeptically but acquiesced. "Sure." They reached sickbay. Just before he opened the door, Tucker leaned toward his partner and said quietly, "Behave for the doc, and I'll make it worth your while."

Malcolm had no time to respond as Trip reached out and hit the control and the door slid open. Reed fought back the flush he knew was rising in his cheeks and elsewhere, shot a glance at Tucker that clearly said, "I'll get you for that." Trip just smiled innocently.

"Hey, doc," the engineer called out. "Got a patient for you."

Phlox turned from his work and rose. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked in his pleasant tenor voice.

"Muhammad Ali here got a little out of hand."

"I beg your pardon?" said Phlox, completely confounded by the old human cultural reference.

"Never mind," said Trip. "He hurt his hand." He gestured to Reed who held up the limb in question.

"My, my," clucked Phlox, gently taking it and examining it.

Malcolm bit back an obscenity as the Denobulan carefully tested one finger after another.

"He doesn't like it when you do that," put in Trip, noticing and admiring his lover's restraint.

"That's not surprising." He released Reed's hand and said, "Sit down, please." Malcolm sat, and the doctor pulled out a medical tricorder. He used it to examine Malcolm's hand more completely. 

_He couldn't have _started_ with that?_ Malcolm though acidly, but kept the thought to himself.

As Phlox continued the examination, Trip explained the situation with a bit more mirth than Malcolm appreciated, but the lieutenant said nothing. In a small way, he was actually grateful. It wasn't the first time he'd gone a little overboard in the gym, and Phlox had been inclined to question him about it in the past. This time, though, Trip's lighthearted narrative seemed to content the doctor; he didn't even give Reed an inquisitive look.

"There's a hairline fracture in your fourth metacarpal bone," Phlox told Reed. "Shouldn't take more than a few moments to fix." He pocketed the tricorder and retrieved another device from a cabinet. "Rest your hand on the table and hold still." Malcolm did as told. Slowly and precisely, Phlox ran the bone-knitter over his injured hand.

After a minute that felt more like ten to Reed, the Denobulan shut off the knitter. "Done," he pronounced. "I'll give you something to reduce the swelling, and you'll need to go easy on that hand for a few days, but you'll be fine." He replaced the device in its cabinet and selected a hypospray. Malcolm leaned his head a little to one side as the doctor injected it into his neck. "That should do the trick. Is there anything else I can do for either of you?"

"No, thank you, doctor," said Reed politely but firmly. He was ready to be out of there and back in his own cabin. He stood, straightened his robe.

"Very good. You two gentlemen enjoy the rest of your evening." Phlox smiled broadly at the pair, his meaning obvious to even the most casual of observers. Thankfully, there were none.

The blush Malcolm had suppressed earlier rose to full bloom, although this time it was unaccompanied by any other reaction. A sidelong glance at Trip confirmed that he was in a similar state. Reed just managed a stiff "Good night, doctor," before turning to leave. Trip was mute with embarrassment.

Phlox shrugged and shook his head, amused at their hasty exit. _Humans do have the oddest reactions to the most basic things sometimes,_ he mused, tidying up the minor disarray their visit had caused.

Malcolm and Trip were most of the way to Malcolm's cabin before the engineer could speak. "Just how much does he know?" he asked in a strangled undertone.

"More than most, but still very little," was Reed's quiet reply. They reached his cabin and went inside, locking the door securely behind them.

"Just who knows what, exactly?" Trip wanted to know. He sat heavily on the bunk.

"As far as I know, only Stephanie and Doctor Phlox know anything for certain." Malcolm sat next to him, not sure if he should reach out or give his lover a little room to digest this piece of information. He was unprepared for what happened next.

"And the Captain."

"Excuse me?"

"Hefigured it out."

"I see." There was little more to say about it.

"Are you okay with it?" Trip asked uncertainly.

Malcolm considered carefully before replying. "Yes. I am."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"He's an old friend," Trip continued, babbling. "I'm sure no one else knows. He's happy about it, if you care. I meanif it matters to you what he thinks. I mean—"

Malcolm stopped his lover's prattling with a tender kiss. When he pulled away, Tucker was silent.

"I'm glad he knows," said Malcolm. "And I'd be lying if I said it didn't matter to me what he thought. He's my Captain," he said matter-of-factly.

Trip nodded in understanding.

"The fact is," continued Reed, running gentle fingers through Trip's fair hair. "I'm okay with anyone knowing Are you?"

It was Tucker's turn to think. Was he okay with it? Was he secure enough in their relationship to let the world in on their secret?

He found he was.

"Yeah," said Trip with a smile.

"Good. Now that that's settled" Malcolm gave him a coy glance. "I'd say I behaved for the doctor. Wouldn't you agree?"

*****

Stephanie was taking the long way home. She was still wound up after the night's gaming and felt like a walk before bed. Cutler was spending the night with Mayweather, so she didn't have to worry about disturbing her by coming in late.

She turned a corner, strolling down a quiet corridor and passing no one as she went. It was already late, and most of the crew were likely to be asleep. Passing a familiar cabin door, Stephanie paused. She thought she'd heard something but wasn't sure. She waited, listening.

There it was again. She realized suddenly what it was and from whose quarters it was emanating. Giving a furtive glance up and down the corridor, she was reassured to find herself the only witness. With a small sigh of relief, she hurried on.

*****

End Log 22  
_(Completed 30 April 02)_

Continued in Log 23


	23. Log 23

****

Log Rhythms  
by DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

**Special Thanks** – This time, my thanks go to Dominic Keating. I've borrowed a quote from one of his convention appearances. It made me laugh so hard and provided such a precise image, I just couldn't resist using it.

*****

**Log 23**: (Takes place immediately following the episode _Detained_ and during the episode _Vox Sola_.)  
_[Rating PG-13]_

*****

Liz was waiting in sickbay when they arrived. Had she not assisted Doctor Phlox in preparing Lieutenant Reed for the covert operation, she'd have been taken aback by his alien appearance. The Suliban make-up was as convincing as it was unattractive. _Don't be so narrow-minded, Liz,_ she chided herself. _A Suliban might find him quite handsome._

Then she saw Travis. Her relief at seeing him was overshadowed by concern at the injuries he'd sustained. Cutler's first instinct was to hurry to help him, but Phlox and the Captain had it under control. They helped Mayweather to the main diagnostic bed where he sat gratefully.

Travis caught Liz's worried expression and silently thanked whatever guiding spirits might be listening that she'd not seen him immediately after he'd been beaten. The Tandaran guards were good at what they did; he knew firsthand. "It's not as bad as it looks," he said reassuringly.

"I'll be the judge of that," Phlox put in. "Lie down."

Mayweather laid back on the bio-bed, which the doctor then slid into the large medical scanner. He shut the door and let the machine do its work. Moments later, he opened the door again and the bed rolled smoothly out. "Well," Phlox said, examining the results on the overhead panels, "you're right. No internal damage, no broken bones. It shouldn't take too long to get you cleaned up."

"Speaking of which" began Reed hopefully. "I could use some help getting out of this damn make-up. You wouldn't believe the way it itches."

"Patience, Lieutenant. The injured come before the merely uncomfortable," the Denobulan said lightly. He turned to Cutler. "Ensign, see to the Captain while I treat Mr. Mayweather.

"Yes, Doctor," answered Liz at the same time Archer said, "I'm fine."

"There's been enough self-diagnosis here today. Now please have a seat over there so Ensign Cutler can run a full scan."

"Yes, sir," replied the captain with a hint of friendly irony. Liz collected a medical tricorder and scanned her C.O. "What's the word, Ensign?"

"Low iron count," pronounced Liz, examining the results, "as well as several other minerals and vitamin C. Nothing a hypospray and a few well-balanced meals won't cure." She smiled and went to collect the injection in question. "This is a simple vitamin and mineral supplement," she explained as she pressed the hypospray to Archer's neck and released the mixture. She stepped back when she'd finished. "Unless Doctor Phlox wants anything more?"

"I'm satisfied, Ensign," said Phlox, not looking up from treating Mayweather. "You're free to go, Captain."

"Thanks," he said, including both the ensign and the doctor in his acknowledgment. He hopped off the bio-bed, happy to be released. Archer wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a hot meal, and he intended to find both as quickly as possible. "Good work, Travis," he said as he passed the young man. "You, too, Malcolm." He gave his Armory Officer a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

"Sir," answered Reed, pleased at the praise but not wanting to let it show.

"I'm ready to get you out of that make-up, Lieutenant," offered Cutler.

His relief was evident on his face even through the mottled green mask. "Thank you!"

Archer chuckled and went on his way. Several meters down the corridor, he ran into Commander Tucker approaching quickly from the direction of the landing bay.

"Captain!" exclaimed Trip. "I was just coming to check on you all. I talked to T'Pol. She says everything's under control topside."

"That's good to hear," replied Archer.

"So, you okay?" It was clear his concern was genuine, but it was equally clear he was impatient to be elsewhere. 

Archer bit back a grin, knowing full well where his old friend wanted to be. "I'm okay," he said. "Travis has seen better days, but the doctor says he'll be fine, too."

"Goodgood." Trip nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels, antsy.

This time, Archer couldn't keep from smiling. "Malcolm's in sickbay. Ensign Cutler's getting him out of the prosthetics. He made quite a convincing Suliban."

"Yeah, but I'll be happy when he's himself again. It's pretty weird when your partner looks like a Suliban."

Archer laughed. "I can only imagine."

"Hello, Captain, Commander," said Cormack pleasantly, startling both men.

"Ensign," Archer replied with a surreptitious glance at Tucker. The engineer seemed to be fine with the possibility that their conversation might have been overheard, so the captain let it go as well. "If you'll both excuse me, I hear a hot shower calling my name." He gave them a brief smile and went on his way.

"Can I do something for you, Ensign?" asked Trip.

"I just thought I'd pop into sickbay."

"Checking up on your C.O.?" joked the engineer.

"Come on, Commander," she replied just as teasingly. "Tell me you're not doing the same thing."

"Yeah, well"

"Thought so." She grinned. "Walk with you?"

Tucker wasn't sure why, but he didn't want Cormack accompanying him just then. "Sure," he answered against his desires. They continued toward their common destination. "The Captain said he's fine." They both knew which "he" the engineer meant.

"That's good. I bet he's itching to get out of that Suliban get-up," Stephanie said with a chuckle. She had no idea how true her statement was.

"You know, we're probably going to be in the doc's way."

"Probably," agreed Cormack amiably. "But I'm used getting on Doctor Phlox's nerves."

"Oh?" In spite of himself, Trip was curious.

"Oh yeah. Malcolm hasn't told you about it? I'm not the most patient of patients, I'm afraid."

Before he could question her further—specifically on why "Malcolm" would know anything about it—they arrived. Cormack reached out and gave the release a good smack, and the door to sickbay slid obediently open.

Phlox was just helping Travis into a sitting position, his various injuries treated. On the other side of the room, Cutler was carefully peeling the prosthetic mask off of Reed.

"I'll be with you in a moment," the doctor said.

"No hurry, doc," replied Tucker.

Reed emerged from his mask and took a deep, thankful breath. "That is so much better!"

"We're not done yet," Cutler reminded him. She began to work on his hands, using a gentle solvent to remove the glue that held the Suliban gloves in place.

"I know, but at least now it doesn't itch."

"Yeah, but you lost your looks," teased Trip, coming to stand beside him.

Content to see that her C.O. was fine, and not wanting to intrude on their meeting, Stephanie approached Phlox and Mayweather. "How're you, Travis? You look like you've been through the wars."

"No. Just the internment camp," was the helmsman's tired reply. This got him a concerned glance from Liz, but she said nothing and kept to her task.

"You'll be fine in a few days," the doctor said reassuringly. "Right now, the best thing you can do is get a meal and a good night's sleep."

"Does it have to be in that order?"

"Not necessarily."

"Good. I'm exhausted." He rose and began to leave.

Liz paused in what she was doing. "Excuse me a moment, Lieutenant," she said. She caught Travis at the door. Putting a tender hand on his arm, she said softly, "I'll bring you some dinner later. How would that be?"

He gave her a grateful smile. "I'd appreciate that."

"I'll walk with you, Travis," offered Stephanie, more for her bunkmate's sake than the helmsman's. "I expect I'm about two seconds from getting shooed out of here, anyway." She exchanged a quick look with Liz who mouthed a silent thank you. Stephanie gave her the barest of nods and a smile that went unobserved by Mayweather. "You better finish what you're doing over there," she said, glancing at Reed who was waiting less than patiently. "I hate it when my C.O. gets cranky, and I think he's beginning to look just a little cranky."

Liz hurried back to Reed. "Sorry, Lieutenant," she said and resumed liberating him from the alien make-up.

Stephanie tried not to laugh as the door closed behind her and Travis.

"Was there something you needed, Commander?" inquired Phlox as he cleared up the mess left in the wake of his patient.

"Nope. Just wanted to make sure everyone was okay," the engineer replied.

"I see." He did see, and a small smile crossed his alien features. "Well, as long as Ensign Cutler has no objections to you observing her work"

"What? No." Liz shook her head. She wasn't sure why Tucker was still hanging out, but she assumed he had his reasons.

"Then you're welcome to stay. Just stay out of the way."

Several minutes later Malcolm was finally free. He heaved another huge sigh of relief and ran wrinkled fingers through sweat-damp hair.

"Any residue will come off with a bit of scrubbing," promised Liz. She carefully closed up the various unguents she'd used and disposed of the accompanying brushes and cloths.

"Thank you, Ensign. You're a life-saver," Reed said sincerely. He stood and rolled his head in a circle, loosening tight muscles. Tucker moved around behind him and began massaging his neck and shoulders. "Mm. That's wonderful," the dark-haired man murmured. "Thank you."

"Any time," said Trip gently.

Liz Cutler stared at the pair, startled beyond belief. Phlox passed her and gave her a surreptitious nudge to jump-start the frozen ensign although he, too, was a bit surprised to see such an obvious display of affection between the two men. 

Tucker and Reed were oblivious to the exchange.

"I think I'd best hit the shower," Malcolm said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. He was enjoying the shoulder massage.

Trip lowered his arms and took a step back and regarded him. Traces of the synthetic prosthetics still clung to Malcolm's neck and wrists, and the body paint Phlox had used to fill in the gaps still ringed his eyes. "Good idea. You look—"

"Don't say it," Reed interrupted as his partner searched for just the right words. "I can guess." He turned to Cutler who was carefully cleaning and storing the mask and gloves in anticipation of possible future need. "Thank you again. And thank you, doctor. You're quite an artist."

Phlox smiled his quirky alien smile. "My pleasure, Lieutenant. It can be a nice change from the normal routine."

"See you, doc," said Trip, and he and Malcolm made their escape.

"I need to stop at my quarters for a moment," Reed said as they walked. "Were you planning on accompanying me all the way? " he added in a suggestive undertone.

Tucker hesitated, then regretfully said, "I can't. I need to get to Engineering. We took some damage from the Tandaran patrol ships. It's minor, but I could meet you for dinner, though. 1900?"

"I suppose that will have to do. I'll see you later, then." They reached Malcolm's quarters, and he turned face Trip.

The engineer tried not to laugh, but it was inevitable. "Go take a shower," he chortled. "You look ridiculous."

"Is that any way to treat your partner? Especially when he happens to have just rescued two command officers from hostile territory?" The smile hovering at the corner of his lips was evidence he was only joking.

Trip took a breath, about to reply, but instead just shook his head. "No. I can't kiss you looking like that. Go on."

"With that attitude, I might not let you kiss me."

"That's not much of a threat right now," Tucker informed him mirthfully. "I'll see you at 1900." He turned and left, still laughing.  


With nothing else to be done, Malcolm went into his cabin. He collected his robe from the closet and stepped into the lav to grab a fresh towel. As he did, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He started to laugh. _No wonder,_ he thought. _I look like a ravaged drag queen._ He shook his head and headed off to the shower room.

****

"How was Travis when you went to check on him?" asked Cormack. It was late, and she was scrubbing a towel through her freshly washed hair.

"All right," Liz answered. "I think he really just wanted to sleep, but I made sure he got some food in him. He really needed it after several days on those rations in the Tandaran camp."

"I'll bet." She tossed the towel down the laundry chute and sat down at the computer. She was behind in her correspondence, and her sister and sister-in-law deserved an answer to their most recent letter—specifically why she'd told them they should name their impending child Lalita.

Liz watched her bunkmate over the top of her datapad. Normally, the subject matter in the latest _Exobiology Journal_ would have had her riveted, but not tonight. She had other matters on her mind.

Stephanie could feel Cutler's eyes on her. She glanced back toward her as far as peripheral vision allowed. "What?" she said finally.

"Nothing."

"Too many of our conversations start with that word," Cormack declared, turning to face her friend, "and it's always a lie. Now, what?"

Setting the datapad aside, Liz regarded her more deliberately. If Stephanie had been the type to squirm, she would have under the intense scrutiny. Instead, she fought the urge and waited, one eyebrow arched in mild curiosity.

At last, Liz spoke. "When were you going to tell me?"

"What?" The raised eyebrow was replaced by a puzzled frown.

"You must have known. You know Lieutenant Reed better than anyone. At least I thought so until today."

"Ohhh." Now Cormack knew what she was talking about. "How did you find out?"

"They weren't exactly trying to hide it in sickbay."

"Ohhhh!"

"Is that all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I _thought_ we were friends. You know, trust, sharing _secrets_"

"_My_ secrets. _Your_ secrets. Not _other people's_ secrets."

Cutler wasn't pleased, but she knew Cormack was right. "Still, you could have told _me_. You know I wouldn't have said a thing to anyone else."

"That's not the point."

"I know," Liz admitted. "But still All right." She tried another tactic. "Now that I know, what _can_ you tell me?"

Stephanie laughed. "Miss Nosey!"

"I just like to know what's going on around me, that's all," argued Liz with a mock-innocent smile and shrug. "How long have they been together?"

The blonde woman thought back. "Since late August."

"That long?! How could I have not noticed?"

"You don't work with either of them," Cormack reminded her.

"Is that how you found out?"

"No."

"Who else knows? Why didn't they tell anyone?"

"I don't know who knows. Seeing as they seemed to have stopped hiding it, could be anyone." She gave an offhand shrug.

"But why hide it in the first place?"

"You'd have to ask them." Stephanie knew the answer but felt this bit of information was beyond her authority to share.

"I couldn't do that!"

"Then you'll never know." Liz gave a frustrated grunt that just made her bunkmate laugh again. "Why is it so important to you?" Cormack asked.

"It isn't, really. It just surprised me. And then I find out you knew about it all along"

"Darling," joked Stephanie, "where would the excitement in our relationship be if you knew everything I did? Or vice versa?"

Cutler was about to argue but then certain information popped into her head, and she changed her mind. "Good point," she said.

*****

Reed rolled over, eyes slowly opening against his better judgement. He glanced around as best he could without raising his head, trying to figure out what had roused him. Then he noticed his lover was awake, staring through the dark at the ceiling. "Trip?" he said softly. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't." Malcolm sat up a little, leaning on one elbow. "Everything all right?" He rested a tender hand on his partner's muscular belly under the warm covers.

"Can't sleep."

"Really? I thought I'd done a better job wearing you out than that."

"You did," Tucker reassured him, his body responding to the gentle circles Malcolm was inscribing on his abdomen. "Maybe the magnetic constrictors are out of alignment again. I'll check them in the morning." He didn't really believe it, but it sounded reasonable.

"Is there anything I can do?" Malcolm offered sweetly, suggestively, his fingers tracing larger and larger circles.

Trip shivered with pleasure at his touch. The thoughts that had been plaguing him, keeping him awake, were deliberately and vehemently shoved aside. "Can't think of a thing," he said teasingly, half a dozen possibilities popping into his mind at once.

"Hmm. Then let me do the thinking this time."

Any reply Trip might have had was hushed as Malcolm's lips found his and he kissed his lover deeply.

*****

Trip woke reluctantly. Having finally gotten to sleep, the last thing he wanted was to wake up and be forced to leave the comforting embrace of his partner. "Malcolm?" he said muzzily.

The tactical officer's only answer was an unintelligible grunt.

"Malcolm," he repeated a little louder. He nudged his lover's shoulder, trying to drag him to consciousness. "Wake up. Your alarm's beeping."

Without batting an eye, Reed said firmly, if somewhat muffled, "Computer, alarm off." Obediently, the soft chirrup of the alarm ceased. He snuggled more deeply under the covers.

"Malcolm, we have to get up."

"Since when are you a morning person?" answered Reed, still stubbornly refusing to open his eyes or release his hold on his partner.

"Since when _aren't_ you?" Tucker countered.

"Since someone kept me up half the night and thoroughly exhausted me."

Trip shrugged as much as he could with the smaller but still formidable form of Malcolm sprawled practically on top of him. "Okay. We're both department heads. There's nothing pending in Engineering. How 'bout the Armory?"

"Mm-mm," replied Malcolm in the negative.

"Great. The only person we'll have to explain our absence to is the Captain, and I'm sure he'll understand. We'll just tell him we're real sorry we didn't go on duty this morning, it's just that we were up all night having sex, and what with the wonderful way you—"

"All right! All right," interrupted Malcolm, finally opening his eyes and sitting up. "I'm up. I'm awake." He scrubbed rough palms over stubbled cheeks.

Trip snickered. "Thought that would get you." He, too, rose and began pulling on the clean uniform he'd brought with him the night before in a surprising display of forethought.

"You wouldn't really" But one look at Tucker made Reed less certain. He _had _known Captain Archer for over ten years. Were they really close enough that Trip would share that sort of information? "No."

"No," Trip admitted. "But it was a good threat, huh?"

"Exceedingly," Malcolm reluctantly agreed. He stretched, yawning hugely. "Did you sleep all right, then?"

"Eventuallythanks to you."

"Good." Reed smiled.

*****

"Good morning, Commander."

"Morning, Mae. What's up?"

"I have the report from Gamma-shift," the ensign replied, handing him a datapad. "I relieved Dillard thirty minutes ago. Looks like everything was pretty quiet last night."

"Do me a favor," said Tucker, scanning the report. "Run a diagnostic on the magnetic constrictors."

"Yes, sir. Any reason?"

"Just a hunch. I couldn't sleep last night."

It had happened before. Lawless remembered well the night she'd had such a bad case of insomnia she didn't get a wink of sleep. Commander Tucker had suggested the magnetic constrictors were to blame; he was attuned enough to the ship that their slight misalignment had bothered him that night. He'd fixed the problem, and she hadn't had a sleepless night since.

__

Including last night, she thought. Still, she wasn't as sensitive to the minute changes in the engines as was the Chief Engineer. It was entirely possible he'd noticed something she hadn't—and it explained why he was late coming on duty that morning. "Will do. I'll have the results for you soon." 

"Thanks." Tucker sat and began reading through the night crew report more thoroughly. He was fairly sure the engines had nothing to do with his sleeplessness, but he was looking for any excuse he could find.

*****

"Morning, Lieutenant."

"Good morning, Ensign." The Armory door slid shut behind Reed, and he descended the steps into the main section.

"Late night last night?" Stephanie asked pleasantly.

"A bit."

"Thought so. I didn't see you in the mess hall this morning, and I actually got here before you today."

"Amazing," he replied dryly.

"It is. You know me and mornings. Here's Martinez's report." She handed over the datapad with the Gamma-shift leader's report of the night's activities.

"Anything interesting?" Reed asked, skimming it.

"Nope. Just routine stuff as far as I could see."

"Good. I could do with some routine after the past week. You know," he continued, a new thought occurring to him, "this might be a good time to start re-certifying the security staff in hand-to-hand combat."

"You want me to start working on a schedule?" offered Cormack. 

"Yes. Once we get everyone in security taken care of, we'll need to re-certify the command staff as well."

"I'll get started and get you a schedule draft this afternoon." Before she headed off to work on this, however, there was something she needed to know. "I was interrogated last night," she began.

"Excuse me?" Reed looked up from the report questioningly.

"Yeah. Apparently, I'm in the doghouse with my bunkmate. She wanted to know how long I'd known you and Commander Tucker have been an item."

"I see."

He appeared startlingly unconcerned at the news. "Did I miss a memo?" Cormack finally asked.

Reed gave her a wry half-smile. "No. I ought to have mentioned it to you, though. You've been great all through this," he continued. "I've appreciated your support and having you as a confidant."

"I feel like I'm being fired."

At that, her C.O. laughed outright. "Not at all," he assured her. "I'm just trying to say thanks, and there's one less secret you need to keep."

Stephanie smiled—a broad, genuine smile for once not even tinged with irony. "Cool."

*****

"Here are the results of that diagnostic, sir." Lawless handed over another datapad. "Everything checks out within standard parameters."

Tucker took the pad but barely even glanced at it. "Okay. Thanks, Mae."

It wasn't like him to be so inattentive about a status report—particularly when he'd especially requested it. Lawless was concerned. "Everything okay?" she asked tentatively.

"Huh? Sure. Fine." He pasted on a smile, hoping it would come across as sincere. "Nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't cure."

Mae nodded in understanding; for her it was a definite case of been there, done that. "Yes, sir."

*****

"Hey, Malcolm!" called out Travis. Only two days after his rescue from the Tandaran camp, Mayweather was well on his way back to his normal, energetic self. "Wait up!"

Reed stopped and let the younger man catch up to him. "What can I do for you, Travis?" He guessed from the casual nature of the greeting it wasn't anything official.

"Are you busy Saturday night?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Want to catch the movie with me?"

Malcolm eyed him doubtfully. "You're planning well in advance. And since when are you without a date on a Saturday night?" he teased.

"Since Liz said something about a 'girls' night'," the helmsman answered.

"Stephanie mentioned the same thing yesterday. I wonder what they're planning," mused Malcolm.

"I didn't ask. Sometimes you're better off not knowing." Travis was so sincere, Reed almost laughed.

"Let me check my schedule, and I'll let you know, all right?"

"Okay." 

*****

"You have any plans for Saturday, Commander?" said Mae pleasantly.

"Not particularly. Why?" answered Trip, glancing up from the shuttlepod exhaust manifold they were working on.

"No reason. I'm just making conversation. Between you and me, exhaust manifolds aren't the most interesting pieces of equipment."

Trip chuckled. "You got a point there." He sat back, leaning against the pod's hull. "How 'bout a break?"

"You won't get an argument from me," Lawless replied emphatically.

"So, how about you? Any plans?"

"I was thinking about seeing the movie, but then Cormack suggested a 'girls' night' instead."

"Oh." Tucker nodded. He knew better than to ask what this entailed. Memories of growing up with sisters told him it could be anything from painting toenails to competitive drinking. Somehow he doubted Lawless would go in for either of these extremes, but there were a million possibilities in between. Instead, he latched onto something else Mae had said. "Have you known Ensign Cormack a long time?"

"Since the first day of Starfleet training," answered Mae. She sat facing her C.O., back to the opposing shuttlepod and feet stretched out in front of her. "We actually bunked together during OTC. _That_ was a mistake."

"Why? What'd she do?"

"Nothing. We're just a lot better at being friends when we don't have to live together."

"But you got through it; you're still friends."

"Sure! As soon as we were through training and got our first assignments, everything was great again. I tell you, though, I have a lot of respect for Liz Cutler being able to share a cabin with Stephanie."

"You were assigned to Jupiter Station, I know. Where did Cormack go?" 

"She was working security in New Berlin," said Mae. "Then she was transferred toI don't remember which ship. She could tell you."

"That's okay. It's not important. I'm just making conversation," Trip replied with false indifference, intentionally using the same phrase and intonation Lawless had. "Ready to get back to work?"

"I suppose so."

"You're enthusiasm is overwhelming," Tucker joked.

*****

Reed and Tucker were enjoying a quiet dinner. Both had worked late in their respective departments, so the mess hall was mostly empty when they'd finally met there.

"Do you want to go to the movie this week?" asked Malcolm suddenly.

"Hadn't thought about it," Trip answered. "What's playing?"

"I don't remember. Something French, I think."

"Hmm. I don't know. Why? Did you really want to see it?" He was abruptly and absurdly concerned he wasn't being supportive or enthusiastic enough about his lover's interests.

Reed gave a half-hearted shrug. "It might be fun. Travis is looking for company. Apparently, Liz has plans."

"Is this that 'girls' night' I've heard about?"

Malcolm was surprised. "Yes. Where did you hear?"

"Mae mentioned it while we were working on the shuttlepods this morning."

"Hmm. That makes at least three women who are gathering. I wonder what they're up to," he said, echoing the comment he'd made earlier to Mayweather.

"Who's number three?" asked Trip.

"Stephanie. Maybe Hoshi knows what's going on."

Tucker tensed at the mention of Cormack. _What the hell's wrong with you?_ he asked himself. _She's a friend. She's been on your side from the beginning._

On Malcolm's side, you mean, he answered himself.

__

It's the same thing in the long run.

Is it?

"Trip?" Malcolm looked across the table at the fair-haired engineer. "Trip?" he repeated.

"Huh? Sorry. What did you say?"

"I was just wondering whether or not Hoshi might know what they're up to."

"Why do you care?"

Reed shrugged. He took a drink of water, trying to come up with an explanation for his excessive inquisitiveness. "Call it an instinctive interest in covert operations."

"They're not doing anything covert," argued Trip. In truth, he was a bit annoyed with Malcolm's little obsession. On one level, Tucker knew his irritation stemmed from the problem he currently had with Ensign Cormack—not that he would admit it to himself or anyone else. "They're just getting together. You have a sister. Didn't she ever go for a girls' night with her friends?"

Malcolm's enthusiasm was abruptly curtailed. "I don't know, really," he said pensively, his expression suddenly introspective.

Trip immediately noticed the change. "What's wrong? I thought you got along fine with Madeline."

Malcolm's estrangement from his family both puzzled and concerned Trip. He'd suggested several times that the tactical officer contact them, or at least his sister, but Malcolm had evaded the issue every time. Finally, Tucker had realized the harder he pushed, the more reluctant Reed would become. So he'd let the matter gofor the time being. 

"We get on fine," said Reed. "On the rare occasions we talk to one another. I haven't seen her in person for quite some time."

"Oh. Well" Trip looked for something that might satisfy Malcolm as to what Stephanie, Mae, and Liz might be planning. At least it would be a distraction from the melancholy that had abruptly descended on the evening. "I can tell you some of what my sisters and their friends used to do when we were growing up."

"What?" Malcolm was happy for the change of topic for a number of reasons.

"Well, it'd depend." Tucker found it was more difficult than he'd anticipated. "Sometimes they'd go shopping."

"I don't think that's really an option in this case, do you?" teased Reed.

Trip gave him his best lips pursed 'I-know-that' look. Malcolm chuckled. "They'd go people watching—you know, checking out guys. That sort of thing. Or they'd go out dancing. There was one time," he continued, forestalling any potential argument about the lack of dance clubs aboard, "my oldest sister went to a party she wasn't supposed to, and she and her friends got blind drunk on tequila shooters." He laughed at the memory. "She was in so much trouble when our Mama found out what she'd done!"

"What did she do?"

"Mama? She made breakfast the next morning."

"That hardly sounds like punishment."

"It is when you know she fixed the greasiest sausages, the runniest fried eggs, and the biggest stack of pancakes you've ever seen. And she made sure to slam every pan she used as loudly as she could."

"Ah. I see." The lieutenant smiled slyly. It was the kind of sense of humor he could appreciate. It occurred to him that he might get on well with Mrs. Tucker. "I don't think that's what the ensigns will be doing, however."

"Probably not," agreed Trip, his laughter at the memory slowly subsiding. But he'd accomplished his goal, at least in part. Malcolm was still fixated on the "girls' night," but at least he wasn't looking gloomy any more.

"Maybe I'll just ask." Then he reconsidered. "Nah."

"No," Trip said at the same time.

Reed looked at him. "Why not?"

"It's a _girls' night_," the engineer said emphatically. "Do you really think anyone of them would tell you?"

"Stephanie would."

Tucker gave him a dubious look. "You really think so?"

Malcolm considered. "Perhaps not," he admitted.

* * *

"Hey, Hoshi," said Cormack, collecting her mug from the drinks dispenser in the mess hall. "I heard you had a rough morning."

"That's one way of putting it," the comm officer said, depressed.

"We all have sucky days sometimes," offered Stephanie.

"Sure. But most people's don't involve a botched first contact."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault. From what I heard, the Kreetassans sound a bit hypersensitive to me."

"We don't know that." Sato picked up a mug and placed it under the dispenser. "Green tea, hot," she ordered. "For all we know, we might have insulted their ancestry, their planet, their clothes"

"All right. I get your point. But at least you have tonight to look forward to, right?" Stephanie smiled encouragingly.

Hoshi's shoulders slumped. "I think I'm going to have to pass."

Cormack's shoulders fell too, inadvertently mimicking her friend. "Come on! We've been planning for a week! It'll be fun."

"No, thanks. I'm not really up to being sociable tonight. Have fun without me." She collected her filled mug and left the mess hall.

*****

"Tucker to Reed."

The tactical officer stepped to the comm panel next to the main armory console. "Go ahead."

"Can I take a rain-check on that movie tonight?"

"Sure. What's up? Not in the mood to watch French people get blown up?" joked Malcolm. He didn't know much about the evening's entertainment, but Mayweather had promised him explosions. Any movie with explosions couldn't be all bad, he figured, even if it was in French.

"Actually," Trip was saying, "I think the Captain could use a little pick-me-up after that whole mess with the Kreetassans this morning."

"Oh?"

"A copy of the Stanford/Texas water polo finals came in with the sub-space mail. I figure it'll cheer him up to watch his old team play. But don't say anything," he added hastily. "I don't want to spoil the surprise."

Reed glanced around the empty Armory wondering whom he could possibly tell. "No problem," he said with a hint of irony. "Have fun."

"Thanks. Tucker out."

*****

The door chimed.

"Come in," called Liz.

"Are we set?" asked Lawless, stepping into the cabin and letting the door slide shut behind her.

"Did you bring the stuff?" Cormack answered question with question.

Mae held up a small box and a larger bag. "Got the cards here, and the goods here." She glanced around the small cabin. "Where's Hoshi?"

"She had to bail," Stephanie said. "I think she's really upset about the meeting today."

"I heard about that." Mae set the cards and the bag on the small collapsible table that had been set up between the bunks. "But she should be here. It's just the thing to cheer her up."

"That's what I told her, but no go. Is the door locked?"

Liz checked it. "Yes."

"Excellent!" Stephanie plopped onto her bunk as Liz sat across from her and Mae grabbed the desk chair and sat. "You want the first deal, Mae? You brought the deck."

"Sure, but first" She opened the bag and removed four smaller bags. She handed one to each of her companions and tossed the fourth one onto the desk by the computer. "We'll save that for Hoshi," she said.

Cormack peered into bag, inhaling deeply. "Lovely," she sighed.

"What's the game?" asked Liz.

Lawless opened the pack of cards and began to shuffle them. "Since I'm dealing, I pick five card stud. Queens are wild."

"You said stud," said Cormack, sniggering.

"Honestly," put in Liz, "you're worse than Travis!"

"At least you've got a stud," interjected Lawless. She set the shuffled deck on the table and Liz obediently cut it. Cormack was too busy laughing to comment. Mae looked at her. "If you're like this now, what are you going to be like if you win?" She started to deal the cards.

"It's not the actual winning that worries me," Cutler said. "It's after she eats the winnings. She'll be flying for a week."

Cormack was finally calming down. "Okay, okay. Sorry," she said between diminishing chuckles.

"Are we playing or what?" Lawless said.

"We're playing, we're playing."

"Then ante up."

"So, what do we have, exactly?" Cormack examined the contents of her sack more closely.

"We each have an equal number to begin with," said Mae. "The plain ones are worth one, the peanuts are five, and the almonds are ten."

Each of the women reached into their bags and pulled out a small brightly colored candy, tossing them into the center of the table. They examined their cards.

"I'll open with five," said Cormack, adding five more candies to the small pile.

"Why don't you use a peanut one like any sane person?" queried her bunkmate.

"I'm not explaining my strategy to you."

"She's bluffing. She thinks she's going to lose the hand, and she'd rather lose the plain ones," explained Mae.

"What makes you think that?" asked Cormack, trying to be nonchalant.

"How long did we live together? You think I don't know you like the peanut ones the best?"

Stephanie glared but without real malice. "Bitch. Fine. If you want to play hard-ball, we'll play hard-ball." She retrieved the five candy-coated chocolates and replaced them with a larger, oval-shaped one. "The bid was five. Liz?"

*****

"I'm out," said Liz with a sigh. She folded her hand and glanced at her meager winnings from the evening.

Mae eyed Stephanie closely. "I still think you're bluffing," she said.

Cormack raised an eyebrow. "Put your chocolate where your mouth is," she challenged.

"I think I will. I fold." Lawless set down her cards and popped an almond shaped candy into her mouth.

Stephanie was downright gleeful. "Another hand to me!" She reached out to pull the pile of sweets toward her, adding them to her already substantial pile. She'd amassed a large heap of chocolates of all denominations and was contemplating the pleasure she would have consuming them.

"I think I've had enough poker for one night." Liz sat back against the bulkhead and nibbled a chocolate.

"Don't you want a chance to win back what you've lost?"

"I'd rather eat what little I have left."

"Ditto," said Lawless, and emphasized her point by munching several at once.

"You two just didn't have the right motivation," Cormack informed them.

"PMS?"

"Yep."

"Should have guessed." Mae shook her head. She collected up the cards and was just packing them away when an alert caused the comm to chime.

"Reed to Cormack."

The tactical ensign scrambled from her bunk and stretched past Lawless to hit the comm. "Go ahead."

"Report to the Armory immediately."

"Understood."

The comm closed, and Cormack quickly grabbed a pair of boots. She didn't have time to change her civvies for her uniform, but the least she could do was show up properly shod.

"What's up?" Lawless asked.

"No clue. Thanks for the game night, chickies. I look forward to another." Giving them a smug grin, she grabbed a handful of candy and headed out the door.

"Bitch," said Liz lightly.

"Yeah," agreed Mae with a grin. "But she's our bitch. And she's left her winnings behind."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"She'll kill us both."

"So?"

"Don't do it," advised Cutler. "We're already on her shit list for that Daughters of Lear gag." She was referring to the joke they'd played involving the band Cormack had played in at college. "You just don't mess with a woman's chocolate when she's PMS-ing."

Begrudgingly, Lawless was forced to agree. "All right." She gathered up her own winnings, which weren't huge but were more than Cutler's. "I'll share mine with you?"

"No, thanks. I'm better off without, really."

The comm chirped again, startling both of them. "Phlox to Ensign Cutler."

"Go ahead, Doctor."

"Please come to sickbay. There's a project which would benefit from your expertise."

"I'll be right there." She closed the comm, and she and Mae regarded one another. "I wonder what's up."

"I have no idea, but I think I'll l head over to Engineering and see what I can find out," said Lawless.

*****

"What do you mean, it's growing?" Lieutenant Reed had quickly informed Cormack of the situation, but the ensign still wasn't entirely clear.

"Just that. "

"So it just sucked up five of our people? Why?"

"I didn't stop to ask, I'm afraid," said Reed, his tone oozing sarcasm. He was angry with himself. Despite his efforts, he'd been unable to stop the alien organism from grabbing Captain Archer. He'd fired at the grasping tendrils, but the phase-pistol had no effect on the creature. Then it had gone after Trip. There was nothing Malcolm could do. He had watched helplessly as the tendrils wrapped themselves around the engineer. 

He could still hear Tucker's barked command while he struggled against the alien.

_"Get out of here! Go!"_ he'd shouted.

Reed had had no choice but to run. The expression on Trip's face as the creature pulled him in was clear in Malcolm's mind—as clear as the memory of his own fear at the sight. That's what made him angry. He hadn't panicked, but he had been afraid. Very, very afraid.

He'd barely managed to get out of the cargo bay safely. Pale, slimy creepers snaked through the door behind him. Reed had grasped the door handle tightly and pulled, slamming it repeatedly until most had withdrawn and only one was left. He'd yanked one more time, slamming the door shut and severing the last tendril from the main body. It had fallen to the deck with a wet smack.

"Sorry," said Cormack pulling him abruptly back to the present. "That was a stupid question. What's the plan?"

"We have to contain it, should it try to leave the cargo bay."

"The force field?"

"Exactly."

*****

"Sub-commander T'Pol and Ensign Sato are attempting to find a way to communicate with the life-form," said Phlox. "The creature is highly photo-sensitive, but when Lieutenant Reed's team tried bombarding it with intense light, it also affected the captain and the others."

"Are you saying it's bonding with them somehow?" asked Cutler, fascinated despite the danger.

"That is precisely what I'm saying. It's sharing their autonomic functions and neural impulses. I've been studying the piece that was severed from the whole, and I could use another set of eyes and hands to assist."

"What can I do?"

*****

"Captain?  Captain?"

There was another long pause before Archer replied. "I'm still here," he said, his voice strained and rough. 

The web in which they were caught had nearly enveloped them. Archer had lost almost all mobility and could only move his head about a centimeter in any direction. It was just enough to look down on his chief engineer hanging a few meters away.

"Don't fade out on me now, sir. You're the only one I've got left." The neurological link the creature had created between itself and its captives also linked the _Enterprise_ crew members to one another. Crewmen Kelly and Zabel had been out when they were first pulled into the web. Rostov had been with them most of the way, but he too had eventually fallen unconscious.

"That goes for you, too, Commander."

"As soon as you give up the game's lost," said Trip, quoting something Archer had said earlier. 

The captain managed a short, tight laugh. "Good to know you actually listen to the things I tell you," he quipped.

There was another silence. It took great effort to speak, wrapped as they were and suspended high above the deck of the cargo bay.

"How long d'you think we've been up here?" Trip managed choke out.

"Don't know. A few hours maybe?" Archer offered. "Don't worry. They'll find a way to get us out," he added, picking up the fleeting thought as it passed through the engineer's mind. 

The life-form was drawing their minds closer together as it was drawing them physically into itself. He was endeavoring to stay out of his old friend's head, but it was tough. Still, he had to try. He had no desire to invade Trip's thoughts—his privacy. He'd already picked up a few stray things about his Armory Officer that were none of his business; he didn't want it to happen again.

"Focus, Commander," Archer said as firmly as he could. "You're fading again."

Trip swam up from the edge of unconsciousness, fighting to stay awake. "Yes, sir." His heart rate was slowing inexorably, and he found it more and more difficult to breathe.

"That's anorder, Trip."

"Sorrysir." Unable to hold out any longer, he slipped into darkness.

*****

He was moving. He didn't know where he was or even which way was up or down, but he knew was moving. He thought he could make out voices. Who they were and what they were saying was beyond him. 

The motion stopped and he was lying on something cold, hard, and smooth. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead choked on the viscous fluid that ran down his throat. Strong arm were around him suddenly, holding him steady as he coughed up the liquid.

Little by little, his brain was starting to make sense of the noises around him.

"Can't you do something?"

"I'm doing everything I can, Lieutenant."

A door opened and suddenly there were more people—more voices and commotion. His body shook with reaction, perspiration mixing with the slime that covered him from head to foot. He wanted to open his eyes, but good sense asserted itself and he kept them shut.

"It's all right, Commander," someone said. He recognized the voice of Doctor Phlox. "You're going to be fine."

Trip felt something soft against his cheek, realized it was towel and someone was carefully and efficiently wiping his face clean. "Doc?" he asked, voice ragged.

"He's gone to help crewman Kelly," a female voice replied from very close by.

Cautiously, Trip opened his eyes. A young crewman, one of _Enterprise_'s med-techs, held his head steady and returned his gaze evenly, giving him something to focus on. "Can you sit up?" she asked.

He nodded stiffly, and she helped him up. Tucker leaned gratefully against a large storage locker. "The Captain?" he asked.

The med-tech glanced over Trip's shoulder to where T'Pol was helping Archer to his feet. "He's all right, sir. But we're going to take you all back to sickbay to be sure. Okay?" Her voice was gentle, but her tone made it clear it was less a request and more a command.

Again he nodded. It was difficult for him to speak, but there was one more thing he wanted to know. "Malcolm?"

Reed, ever present but trying to stay out of the medical team's way, heard him and approached. "Right here," he said. He knelt down so he was on a level with Tucker.

"Good."

There was a noise behind Reed and he looked up at another med-tech standing next to a gurney. "Excuse me, sir," the man said. "We need to move the commander."

"Of course." Malcolm put a gentle hand on Trip's shoulder, oblivious to the slime that coated him. "I'll see you soon," he said, and rose.

Reed stepped back out of the way once more as Phlox and his medical team removed Tucker, Archer, and the three crewmen from the cargo bay. Ensign Sato stood next to him as they watched the team leave.

T'Pol approached them. She looked at Hoshi. "Have you transmitted the coordinates we got from the life-form to Ensign Mayweather?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," answer Sato.

"I'll be on the bridge. Good work, Ensign."

It was high praise from the taciturn Vulcan, and Hoshi appreciated it. "Thank you."

T'Pol simply nodded and left.

"I'm sort of inclined to get out of here myself," the comm officer quietly admitted, glancing uneasily at the greatly diminished but still disturbing web hanging from the bulkhead. Despite her success in communicating with it, she continued to find it unsettling.

Malcolm had to agree. "If you and T'Pol hadn't found a way to talk to that thing" 

"It wouldn't have mattered if you hadn't finished the force field in time," she countered. "I'd say it was a team effort. Now let's get out of here."

Reed nodded. His team was finished removing the EM emitters they'd used to create the force field; there was nothing else to be done here but to leave the life-form alone until they arrived at its homeworld. "After you, Ensign," he said, opening the door to the corridor and motioning for her to precede him.

*****

"We're coming into orbit over the site, Sub-commander," said Mayweather.

T'Pol rose from the captain's chair. "Good." She looked at crewman Donnelly who was manning the comm station. "Notify the rest of the landing party. Have them meet me in Launch Bay One."

"Yes, ma'am," the dark-haired Irishman replied.

*****

It was almost eerily silent in the shuttlepod as the team made the return trip to _Enterprise_. They had safely returned the life-form, down to the severed tentacle, to its home. Now, each member of the party was lost in his or her thoughts. 

Finally, Hoshi spoke quietly. "Can you imagine what it must have been like for the creature?"

No one else seemed inclined to respond, but Reed was curious. "What do you mean?" he asked from the pilot seat.

"I mean, to be part of something like thatthat giant web, and then suddenly be cut off from it. Completely alone. It must have been terrified."

"It is foolish to ascribe human reactions to alien life-forms," said T'Pol. "Particularly one as alien as this. We have no basis on which to presume the creature even has emotions."

"It would explain why it took our crewmembers," argued Sato. "It's like the doctor said," she added with a glance at the Denobulan. "Maybe it just felt the need to connect with any other living being it could find."

"It is one explanation."

Hoshi's first instinct was to challenge the Vulcan woman to find another, but she refrained. She and T'Pol had come to something of an understanding while working to decode the alien's language. _Or I did,_ the ensign thought with irony. _She already knew what she was doing. I just didn't understand._

Reed was thinking about what Sato had said. It did explain a lot. He just wished it hadn't happened to his crewmates. This was a first contact he could have happily lived without. Now, he was anxious to put the whole incident behind him, and the only way to do that was to get back to his normal routine. 

He hailed the ship. "Reed to _Enterprise_. We're ready to come home."

"The docking arm's extended and waiting for you, Lieutenant," came Mayweather's reply.

"Understood. ETA four minutes. Shuttlepod out."

*****

End Log 23  
_(Completed 8 May 02)_

Continued in Log 24


	24. Log 24

****

Log Rhythms  
by DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 24**: (Takes place during and immediately following _Desert Crossing_.)  
_[Rating PG-13]_

*****

Damn. It had been such a good week, too.

Not everyone would have considered being chased and shot at by hostile aliens as a good week. But then, not everyone was the Tactical Officer on _Enterprise_. The point was _Enterprise_ had gotten to shoot back, and while they hadn't won in the fire fight, they had won.

Despite the current situation, a small smile flashed across Lieutenant Reed's face at the recent memory. Now, however, Captain Archer and Commander Tucker were lost in a vast desert on an alien planet. That alone was enough to make him worry. Add to it that an antagonistic military force capable of disrupting Enterprise's sensors was hunting them, and worry became an inadequate description.

He leaned in more closely over the navigation screen, examining the flight path laid out by Zobral. The tall alien man was right; it was very difficult. But Reed hadn't been boasting when he'd claimed to be a quick study. He checked the time. Only another seven minutes before the window in the Torothan's orbital detection grid opened. Then they would have less than one minute to get from _Enterprise_'s launch bay to the planet's low atmosphere, where they would be able to avoid detection even after the window closed.

"Are you certain you can pilot us in, Lieutenant?" inquired T'Pol evenly.

"No problem, Sub-commander," he assured her.

"I hope you are right," Zobral put in. His deep voice, roughened by long years in the desert climate, filled the small shuttlepod. "Or we are all dead."

*****

"I see them," announced Cormack. She was manning the bridge tactical station in Reed's absence and was thrilled with the reappearance of the shuttlepod. She had mixed feelings about her next statement, however. "Five life signs including three humans—but one is very weak."

Mayweather had already opened the landing bay doors and extended the docking arm by the time she finished speaking. "Any sign of pursuit?" he asked.

"None."

Meantime, Sato was informing sickbay of the imminent arrival. She looked up from the comm station. "Doctor Phlox is ready for them."

There was a tense silence as they waited.

"They're on the docking arm," announced Mayweather at last.

Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Cormack checked her boards again. "Still no sign that anyone on the planet spotted them."

"They're in. Bay doors closing." Travis sat back and gave a small sigh of relief.

*****

"Aren't you needed somewhere, Lieutenant?" asked Phlox.

Reed thought about it briefly and shook his head. "No."

"Let him stay, Doctor," Archer said in a dry, weary voice. It was a request, not an order; he knew orders would get him nowhere here in the domain of the ship's physician. "He'll stay out of your way." He glanced across sickbay from the bio-bed where he lay, making sure the lieutenant recognized this statement as the order it was.

The dark-haired tactical officer nodded. "Of course."

Phlox glanced at Reed and gave a small nod. Then he turned to Tucker. "Stay awake, Commander," he said, firmly but gently, to the rapidly fading engineer. "Look at me. "

"Uh-uh," Trip grunted. "Cap'n promised I could sleep…once we got home."

"Soon, yes, but you have heat stroke. We need to get your temperature down and get you hydrated." Without further ado, he injected a hypospray into Tucker's neck. Trip groaned a little in protest; the pressure hurt against his sunburned skin. "I'm sorry about that, but you'll feel better soon," the Denobulan said gently.

Phlox turned and caught the eye of one of his med-techs, motioning her over. She'd just finished hooking Archer up to an I.V. and had another waiting. She brought it to him. A second med-tech was carefully treating Archer's sunburn with dermoline gel.

Reed watched the scene in frustration, helpless to assist. He had felt the same in the shuttlepod, but at least there he'd had something to do. Now the best he could do was stay out of the way as the Captain had ordered.

"Malcolm?" Trip barely had the energy to look around, but he managed it, turning his head just enough to catch sight of his partner.

Reed gave Phlox a hopeful look and was rewarded with another small nod. He quickly approached and stood by Trip's bedside, carefully keeping clear of the busy medical personnel. "I'm right here," he said softly. He reached out a hand and gently brushed dirty blond hair back from Tucker's face. It disturbed him to see how pale he was under his sunburn.

"When we get to Risa," Trip began weakly, "d'you mind if we…skip that moonlit walk on the beach? I don't think I can take any more sand."

In spite of everything, Malcolm chuckled. If Trip still had his sense of humor, he knew he was going to be all right. "I thought you wanted to go swimming, too," he said softly.

"I'll stick to the pool."

"Okay."

*****

It wasn't much later that _Enterprise_ was on its way once more. After Archer had seen off Zobral, he'd seen no point in continuing to hang around. Not wanting to wait any longer, he opened a comm from the launch bay control room and hailed Mayweather.

"Resume course for Risa, Travis," he said. "And tell Hoshi if we hear any more distress calls, I don't want to know about it."

"Understood, sir." Mayweather hesitated slightly before asking, "Sir, what about Starfleet?"

Archer leaned his head against the bulkhead, enjoying the feel of cool metal against hot skin. He considered. A call from Admiral Forrest had been their first delay in the trip to Risa for shore leave. While it had inadvertently given them the exciting opportunity to push the Warp-5 Engine to Warp 5, it had also nearly gotten them killed. 

He pondered the definition of the term "disobeying orders." Was it really "disobeying" if you never _heard_ the orders?

"Captain?" Travis's voice came through the small speaker. The helmsman was beginning to wonder if Archer was still there, but he knew the comm was still open.

Archer sighed. "If Starfleet calls…I'll be in my quarters." He closed the comm. T'Pol was on her way up to the Bridge. Phlox had recommended he take it easy, and in all honesty the captain was exhausted. There was just one stop he wanted to make before retiring for the day.

He headed back to sickbay. It wasn't more than thirty minutes ago the doctor had released him, but he felt the need to check in and see how Tucker was doing. They'd been through an ordeal in the desert, and Trip had fared the worse of the pair. Archer felt responsible; he'd convinced his old friend to come. He'd said it would be fun, a chance to spend some time together. It wasn't exactly the quality time he'd hoped for.

Things had calmed down in sickbay by the time he returned. Phlox and his med-techs were cleaning up. Malcolm had found a chair and was seated by Trip's bed. The captain approached the doctor. "How's he doing?" he asked quietly, nodding a head toward his chief engineer.

"I told you earlier he'd be fine, Captain. As will you _if_ you get some rest as I recommended," Phlox reminded him, his tone kind but mildly reproving.

"I know, I know. I just had to check on him first." He leaned against the counter next to Phlox, arms crossed over his chest. "He didn't want to go, you know. This never would have happened if I hadn't talked him into coming with me. "

"Do you blame yourself for getting trapped down on the planet?"

Archer turned his head to look at him. "Wouldn't you? Given the circumstances?"

"You can hardly be held accountable for the actions of an alien government you'd never even heard of two days ago."

"No. But I can be held accountable for taking a member of my crew into a war zone."

Phlox was about to argue that none of them had known it was a war zone, but he refrained. He was still learning about humans, and right now what he'd learned about Archer was telling him this wasn't the time for a debate. Instead, he offered a suggestion. "If you feel that strongly about it, you do have the option of speaking to Doctor Douglas. The services of the ship's counselor are open to all."

Archer bit back his instinctual response to the offer. He wasn't a fan of psychiatrists—for no other reason than he believed in solving any personal problems he had by himself. "Thanks," he said. "I'll think about it." Then he quickly changed the subject. "Can I talk to the commander?"

The doctor glanced at his patient and the man attending him. He looked back at Archer. "If you don't have any qualms about disturbing such an idyllic scene," he said with quiet humor.

The Captain let out a soft chuckle. "I'll take full responsibility." 

He crossed the room, catching Reed's eye as he approached. Malcolm started to stand, but Archer waved him back down. He gave him a small, supportive smile before looking down at Trip. He was relieved to see the light and clarity that had returned to his old friend's eyes. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," Trip answered. "Still pretty lousy, though."

"The doc says you'll be up and doing fine before you know it."

"I already know it." It was as close to pouting as the younger man could come. "Can't I go to sleep now?" he asked plaintively.

"Doctor Phlox said not until you've drained that I.V.," Malcolm reminded him.

"I already finished one, and it's not like I can drink it faster." The I.V. was dripping at a steady, slow pace into his arm. "Please?" He looked back and forth at the men on either side of him.

Archer shook his head and laughed gently. He looked across the bed at Reed. "I'm glad he's not _my_ boyfriend," he quipped.

Reed let out an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, sir."

At that, Archer laughed harder. "Malcolm," he began.

Reed rose, anticipating what his Captain was about to say. It was the second time in barely three weeks he'd put personal desire ahead of professional duty—and for the same reason. Less than a month ago Trip and Archer had been captured and nearly consumed by an alien life-form that had invaded _Enterprise_; Malcolm had spent more time than he knew he should making sure his lover was all right after that. "Yes, sir. I'll get back to work right away," he said.

"Sit," said Archer, surprising him. "I'm sure the Armory can do without you at least a little longer. I just wanted to say you did a great job today. As habits go, saving our asses is a pretty good one. I just hope we don't give you quite so many opportunities in the future."

"Agreed."

Archer was slightly taken aback by Reed's reply, though he didn't let it show. He wasn't entirely sure the lieutenant was joking. He turned his attention back to Trip. "Behave yourself," he teased, knowing there was nothing the commander could do in the state he was in. "And do what the doc tells you."

Phlox came over to the trio at that point. "As I recall, Captain, the doctor told _you_ to get some rest."

"I'm going." Archer turned to leave. "Thanks, doc," he added.

The Denobulan simply nodded.

"Hey, Captain," said Trip with effort. "You promised me dinner."

"Prime rib, mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy, and broccoli," the captain dutifully recited. "I remember."

"And pecan pie."

"And pecan pie," he echoed with a smile. "Soon as you're on your feet, I'll let Chef know."

There was a small pause as Trip gathered enough energy to reply. "Thanks, Captain." He meant it for more than the remembered promise.

Archer just nodded. "Take it easy." He left the room.

Phlox checked Tucker's I.V.; it was nearly empty. "You're doing well, Commander," he announced, pulling out a tricorder and examining him. "Well enough that it's safe for you to get some sleep."

"Really?" Trip had been fighting to keep his eyes open. Now, he stopped fighting and gratefully let them shut. "I'm so tired." In moments, he was asleep.

Phlox looked over at Reed. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Lieutenant, but I'd be happy to contact you when he wakes up."

"I should go," Reed agreed, but didn't move. "Maybe just another five minutes."

*****

"What's that?" Mae asked, glancing across the table at the datapad Stephanie held.

Cormack swallowed her sip of her latté and said, "Vulcan database. I'm reading up on Risa."

"Are you learning anything interesting?" Lawless dug into her usual breakfast of coffee and peanut butter crunchies cereal.

"Lots. I now know exactly what I'm doing when I get down there."

"What's that?"

"I'm going shopping."

Mae eyed her suspiciously. "I thought you hated shopping."

"Not when there's a goal. I know what I need, and I'm finding out where to find it."

"It's like playing 20 Questions," Mae muttered. "Find what?"

"Two things. Number one: a bathing suit. Not something I expected to need on a starship light years from Earth," Stephanie added in a wry tone.

Lawless nodded. She'd had a similar thought just yesterday. They could easily get something from the quartermaster, but she was hoping the exotic alien setting would make the usually loathsome task more tolerable—possibly even fun. "I'll go with you, if that's cool. I need to find one, too."

"Sure."

"So what's number two?"

"Eh?"

"You said you were looking for two things," Mae reminded her. "What's two?"

"Oh, right! Nearly forgot."

"Have some more coffee."

"Good idea." Cormack took another appreciative swallow of her latté.

"Is coherency descending on your poor little brain?" gibed Mae.

"Slowly, slowly," was her friend's response.

There was another pause finally broken by Lawless. "Number two?" she prompted.

"Number two! A Horga'han."

"Excuse me?"

"A Horga'han."

"I heard you. I just wondered if you were suddenly speaking in tongues."

"That's not my mythology."

"Ha, ha. Now what's a Horga'han, before I whack you with your own datapad?"

"Better that than spilling my coffee."

"No amount of provocation would lead me to that," Lawless assured her, "for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is you'd kill me—once you got over the caffeine withdrawal."

"A Horga'han is a statue."

"Of anything in particular?"

"I'm not sure. There's no picture."

Mae shook her head. _This is getting stupid, _she thought. "Then how do you know you want one?"

"Your crunchies are getting soggy." Now that the coffee she'd had was sinking in, Cormack was having fun baiting her friend. It was twisted, and it amused her.

"I can get more. Tell me about the goddamned Horga'han."

Stephanie laughed. "Okay, okay. Sorry. It's a statue. You put it out next to you—on the table, ground, wherever as long as it's nearby and easily visible—when you're seeking _jamaharon_."

"I know for a fact that wasn't English."

"Sex."

The engineer nearly choked, and she wasn't even eating. "Excuse me?"

"_Jamaharon_. Basically, it means sex."

"And you just put the little gorgon—"

"Horga'han."

"Horga'han out, and people come and offer to have sex with you?"

"Essentially, yeah."

"You're making this up."

"Come on," protested Cormack. "Could I make this up?"

"Yes."

"Okay, yes. But it's all right here in the Vulcan database. Check it out." She handed over the datapad.

Lawless examined the page that was on screen. It corroborated everything Cormack had just told her. "Okay. So it's a little inanimate pimp." Stephanie snorted a laugh at the accurate if somewhat crass description. "What if you don't like the person who offers?"

"I'll burn that bridge when I get to it."

"I suppose that's fair." She returned the datapad. "And you know where to get one?"

"Yep. It says they're readily available in any boutique, or you can purchase one from any member of the resort staff."

"Which resort?"

"I'm not sure, but it looks like the whole planet is a resort."

"These are some very friendly aliens we're talking about."

Stephanie smiled wickedly. "I certainly hope so. We've been on this ship for nearly a year. The one person I was hot for is, and always was, unavailable—never mind that I'm no longer interested in that way." She briefly thought of the erstwhile crush she'd had on Lieutenant Reed and shuddered. "Ew! No. That'd be like boffing your cousin."

"Christ!" swore Lawless. "I _so_ didn't need that image this morning."

"Anyway, I'm looking for a little fun," continued Stephanie. "Or indeed a lot of fun. Risa looks like it's going to be a good place to find it."

"All right. So you have all this info. Why are you still studying the database?"

"I'm trying to figure out the native sexual taboos. So far they don't seem to have any, but the Vulcans might not have complete information on that point."

"You have just gone past the realm of Too Much Information into I Beg You To Stop."

Cormack laughed. "Have some more coffee."

"Coffee? More like a stiff drink."

"Espresso?"

"Oh, you're funny." Then Lawless's sluggish morning-brain suddenly registered something in the conversation. "Who the hell were you hot for!?" she demanded loudly, garnering them both more than a few interested looks from others in the mess hall.

It was Cormack's turn to choke. It was several moments before she could reply. "Oh my gods, shut _up_!" she whispered harshly, gasping for breath.

Mae dropped to sotto voce, but refused to let the subject go. "But who? And why don't I know about this?"

"No one knows—okay, except Liz—and no one's going to know. I mean, shit! After that stunt you two pulled on me when we were gaming you think I was going to tell? And that only affected _me_. Besides," Stephanie added a little more calmly, "it was over before it began, okay?"

"Okay." There was a pause. "But who was it?"

"Mae!"

"Come on. You could at least narrow it down for me. Gender? Rank? Hair color? Wait, I know you don't go in for blondes." Stephanie pursed her lips and gave her friend an arched-eyebrow glare. "Come on," Mae persisted. "If you don't tell me, it will force me to consider the possibilities from what little data I have." It wasn't an idle threat, and the engineer had proved herself to be remarkably resourceful.

"Consider all you want, just keep it to yourself," said Cormack.

Lawless contemplated her friend carefully, wondering if she'd actually crossed the line. It was such a rare thing with Cormack, she simply wasn't sure. "I'm sorry. Does this really bug you?"

Stephanie sighed. "No, not really. It's just kind of embarrassing because I'm not usually so stupid. Do _not_ comment," she added quickly with an ironic smile.

"I wasn't going to say a thing," lied Mae, equally amused. "Are you going to tell me who it was?"

"Don't take it personally, but no. Even the person in question will never know. Just call it one of life's enduring mysteries."

Lawless let the subject drop, but filed away the information for later research.

*****

"So, what are your plans when we get to Risa, Lieutenant?" asked Mayweather from the helm station. It was a quiet afternoon on the Bridge of _Enterprise_ and, ironically, Travis wasn't the type to abide a vacuum.

"I haven't made any definite plans," said Reed. "You?" he asked in return, immediately and deliberately shifting the topic away from himself. It just wasn't in his nature to share personal information, even such innocuous information as Travis was seeking.

"I'm thinking about going rock-climbing," Travis said enthusiastically. "I've never been, and it looks exciting."

"Not to me," put in Hoshi. If it was quiet on the Bridge, it was quieter in subspace. There was nothing going on. While in a way it was a pleasant change, there were still several hours to pass before they reached their destination. "I'm not even sure I want to go."

"What? You must be kidding. Sun, sea, sand…"

"Sounds a lot like Brazil, in which case there will also be snakes, spiders, piranhas…"

"On an alien planet? Not likely."

"Or the local equivalent," Sato said, acknowledging the mild barb. "You know what I mean. Besides, I just want time to relax. I don't really care where that is."

"Not even interested in the local nightlife?" inquired Reed, deciding the subject was harmless enough for simple chatter. "A chance to get out, meet new people, go dancing?"

"Are you going dancing, Lieutenant?" she asked, suddenly curious.

He gave her an enigmatic smile. "Possibly."

"I didn't know you liked to dance," said Travis, surprised.

"You didn't ask," the tactical officer said. _Trip did,_ his mind added. His smile deepened.

Mayweather immediately misinterpreted the expression. "Oh." He nodded knowingly.

Sato knew better. She looked at Travis, bemused. Did he really think Lieutenant Reed was going cruising for women to pick up? His expression said he did. She looked across the bridge to Malcolm. He was fighting back a chuckle. They caught one another's glance, and he shook his head as if to say, _He'll figure it out eventually._ Seeing this Hoshi, too, swallowed a laugh and nodded back.

"So," the comm officer began, "you're planning a guys' night out, Lieutenant?"

Reed recognized the game and approved; it wasn't the first time they'd played it. He decided to go along and see where the quiet, mischievous young woman took it. He'd been surprised when he first discovered Hoshi's subtly wicked sense of humor. Now, he simply enjoyed watching her work. It also helped that the anticipation of the upcoming shore leave had him feeling slightly giddy. 

"Something like that," he said in answer to Sato's question.

"Not on your own, I presume."

"No. Commander Tucker and I thought we'd explore the nightlife…see the sights, as it were." He gave her a suggestive look for the benefit of Travis. They were rewarded with another knowing nod from the young helmsman. Reed bit back a laugh.

"How's Commander Tucker doing, anyway?" continued Hoshi in seeming innocence.

"Quite well. The only lingering effects of his desert adventure are his bruised ribs and his sunburn. Fortunately, both are healing."

"That's good, especially considering Doctor Phlox will be in his hibernation period for the next week."

"Yes."

"How was he injured? Was it in the attack by the Torothan clan?"

"No. He and Captain Archer were invited to join in a game. I don't recall the name of it, but the Commander said it was quite—physical."

"You sure he'll be up for…sight-seeing?"

He'd figured it out now. Not only was she playing on Mayweather's misinterpretation of Trip and Malcolm's plans, she was out to confuse him even further. The small smile she quickly hid confirmed his guess. "Why? Were you interested in…sight-seeing?" he inquired.

Travis's eyes widened ever so slightly as he glanced surreptitiously back and forth at the officers.

"I might be persuaded," Hoshi said. "I hear there are some _beautiful_…sights on Risa."

Now the helmsman's eyes were practically popping out of his head. Was Hoshi really suggesting she wanted to go trolling for women with the Lieutenant and the Commander?

Malcolm didn't know how much longer he could keep from laughing, but Hoshi looked calm and perfectly at ease. She looked at Travis, inquiring, "How about you, Travis? Up for some…sight-seeing?"

He was shocked at her suggestion for several reasons. "I don't think so. I doubt Liz would like it," he said pointedly.

"Why not?" asked Reed.

"Well, I'd think that was obvious, Lieutenant." The young man was looking more and more confused and uncomfortable with every passing second. "We're…together, you know." The tactical officer's unusual obtuseness had him puzzled. Mayweather was trying not to be too obvious, but he was afraid he might have to spell it out for him.

"You can go…sight-seeing together," suggested Hoshi.

This time Malcolm had to hide his laughter by pretending to cough. He wasn't positive, but he thought Travis might actually be blushing.

"I don't think so," said the helmsman, his eyes firmly locked on the viewscreen. He briefly glanced down at the controls then back at the screen, but he refused to look at the officers to either side of him.

"Is something wrong, Ensign?" Reed inquired pleasantly once he was able to speak.

"No, sir."

At that moment, Commander Tucker stepped out of the turbolift onto the Bridge. He was no longer the painful red color he'd been when he'd been rescued from the desert, but he was still moving a little gingerly from the injury to his ribs.

"Commander," Reed greeted him. He spared a quick glance at Sato to see if she was going to continue their game or let it go. But the decision was taken from her through sheer chance.

"Lieutenant, Ensigns," Trip greeted them all. "Looking forward to shore leave?" he asked the room in general. He approached the engineering station that was situated next to Reed's post at tactical, brushing his fingers lightly along Malcolm's shoulder as he passed. He leaned over the engineering console, tapped several buttons, and scanned the information he'd called up on the screen.

"Yes, sir," piped up Hoshi. "We were just discussing our plans. I understand there's great…sight-seeing on Risa."

If Tucker realized what she was playing at, he didn't let it show. Reed was pretty sure he was clueless on the matter. "That's what I hear. And the locals are supposedly ready and willing to show off those sights to tourists." Malcolm choked on a laugh and coughed again. "You okay?"

"Something in my throat," the tactical officer said. Across the Bridge, Sato was biting her tongue. Mayweather was still as a statue.

"The Captain in his ready room?" asked Trip, oblivious to the sub-text around him.

"Yes, sir," answered Hoshi—the only one capable of coherent speech at that moment.

"Good." Tucker eyed the three bridge officers curiously. "Everything all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he said again. He rang the chime for the captain's ready room, giving the others one last puzzled look before entering.

Malcolm couldn't take any more. One look at Hoshi and they both burst out laughing.

Startled, Travis looked from one to the other, dumbfounded. "What?" he demanded.

It only made them laugh harder.

*****

End Log 24  
_(Completed 15 May 02)_

Continued in Log 25


	25. Log 25

****

Log Rhythms  
by DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 25**: (During and immediately following the episode _Two Days and Two Nights_.)  
_[Rating R]_

*****

Risa was more beautiful than she'd ever imagined. Cormack stood on the small balcony of her cozy hotel suite and took a deep breath of the sweet, fresh air. She could see the sea from here, and the slight tang of salt on the breeze reminded her of home. She sighed as homesickness hit her. Stephanie shook it off. Spending a long time far from home was part of her job. She'd gotten used to it when she'd worked on New Berlin on the Moon and later on the test vessel _Ellison_. And now she was here—farther than she, or any other human being, had ever traveled.

She shook her head, pushing serious thoughts away. She was on vacation, and she intended to enjoy herself. Already she and Mae had had a successful shopping trip. The bathing suit and the Horga'han she'd bought were presently sharing space on the suite's small sofa.

Stephanie took one more deep lungful of air and went back inside. Picking up the outrageously bright, floral-patterned suit, she headed for the bedroom to change. The Horga'han would wait until tomorrow; today she and Mae were going sailing.

The door chimed just as she was doing up the buttons on her shorts. Stephanie grabbed a lightweight tank and pulled it on over her bikini top as she went to answer the door. As she'd expected, it was Lawless.

"Come on in," she said. "I'm almost ready to go." Stephanie popped back into the bedroom and reappeared moments later with a pair of sneakers in one hand. She sat on the sofa and pulled them on.

Lawless was eyeing the little statue next to her. "Is that the Horga'han?" she asked.

"Yep. Check it out." She picked it up and handed it to her friend.

Mae examined it carefully. "Weird."

"I think it's kind of cool. Even if you ignore its intended purpose, it's a pretty cool statue."

"You're really going to use it?"

"Uh, _yeah_." She finished tying her shoes and looked up at Mae. The engineer had set the statue on the low table and was looking at her dubiously. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I plan to be careful?"

"I'm having a hard time figuring out how casual sex with an alien is being careful."

Stephanie decided not to correct her friend's use of the singular. She rose. "I'll be fine. Trust me. This is a hell of a lot safer than some things I've done in my life."

"This is a lot different than working security," argued Mae, misunderstanding the nature of the danger Cormack was talking about.

"That's not what I meant." She considered before continuing. "You know some of what I've done in my life, but you don't know all of it. Trust me when I say I know what I'm getting myself into, and I know how to handle it. Now, let's go sailing." She flashed a grin, which Mae couldn't help but return. Lawless wasn't really satisfied with the answer she'd gotten, but she realized it was the best she was going to get.

"Okay."

"Hang on!" Cormack quickly checked the pockets of her shorts. "Hotel pass, credit chip." She grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the table. "Shades. Okay. I'm good."

*****

It was a beautiful day for sailing. Cormack and Lawless had spent the entire afternoon and evening tacking back and forth across the wide pristine bay, occasionally stopping to take a swim in the luxuriously blue water. There were several boats out, and they'd shared friendly waves and smiles with a number of them as they'd passed.

Both women were pleasantly tired, but neither was quite ready to head back to shore. Instead, they anchored out in roughly the center of the bay to observe the Risan sunset. As they watched, the rich Parrish-blue sky filled with warm shades of orange and pink, deepening slowly to magenta, lavender, and purple as the sun slipped below the watery horizon. The sky darkened and, one by one, pinpricks of light began to dot the deep blue velvet canopy. 

Stephanie laid back on the deck of the boat. She crossed her ankles on the low metal rail and folded her arms under her head. Mae joined her, reclining so she mirrored her friend's posture.

"Think we could spot Sol from here?" said Stephanie, staring up into the sky.

"Not without a telescope," Mae replied. "You didn't bring one, did you?"

"No."

They lay there in silence for some time, enjoying the quiet lapping of the water against the boat's hull as it rocked gently up and down.

Finally, Stephanie spoke up again. "I'm starving."

"Me, too."

"The concierge said there's a great floating restaurant out here. They supposedly serve seafood right from the deck."

"Yeah? Right on." Mae sat up enough to lean on her elbows and look around. They were one of only a few boats left out on the bay. She spotted a cluster of lights about half way between their position and the dock. "I wonder if that's it," she said.

Cormack rolled onto her stomach and lifted her head just enough to see over the rail past and her friend's feet. "Where?" Mae pointed. "Huh. Maybe. Let's go find out."

It was indeed the place they were looking for. Cormack steered the small sailboat in close, and Mae tossed a line to a young man waiting for just such an occasion. "Welcome," he called out. He wound the rope around a cleat and moved on to catch the next, repeating the action.

"Permission to come aboard?" said Stephanie. She let down the anchor and secured the tiller and sail. It was an easy operation with all the automated conveniences the Risan boatbuilders had built into the vessel. More than once that day she'd wished she could have one just like it sent back to Earth for when she had shore leave at home.

"Permission granted," replied the young Risan man with a smile.

Cormack held out a hand, which he took and helped her over to the restaurant boat. Then he turned his bright smile and dark eyes to Mae as he helped her to cross, too.

"I hear this is where we can find the freshest seafood on Risa," Cormack said.

"Yes, it is. Please take a seat at any table. A waiter will be along to help you."

"You're not going to be our waiter?" Mae asked coquettishly.

"I'm afraid not. But I'm sure you'll be happy with the service."

"Thanks."

They found a small, candle-lit table and sat. Stephanie leaned in over it and said quietly. "And you've been dissing me about my Horga'han?"

"What?" asked Mae, although she knew what her friend was talking about.

"You were so flirting with that guy!"

"So? He was cute."

"Hmm. I'm thinking potkettle." She gave the engineer a look of mock consternation. "I'm sure there's an analogy in there somewhere."

"Oh please. It's not like I was—" She stopped short as a waiter approached them.

"Good evening, ladies," he said with a smile. "May I tell you about tonight's specials?"

"Actually, why don't you just bring us whatever _you_ like the best?" suggested Lawless. She flashed him her most flirtatious smile. "This is our first visit to Risa. I don't think we'd know what to order." 

The waiter returned the smile. "I'd be happy to." He gave them a nod and departed.

"Slut," teased Cormack under her breath.

"I'm just trying to create a positive image of humans," protested Mae with false innocence. "We don't want to be known as the ugly tourists of the galaxy."

Stephanie laughed. "You have a point."

*****

"Good afternoon, Ensign!"

"Hey, Doctor Douglas," was Mae's startled response. "I didn't see you there."

"I just arrived," Douglas said with a smile. "And please, don't call me 'doctor.' I'm on vacation. The only person's mental health I'm concerned with today is my own. Just call me Kyrin."

Lawless chuckled. "All right, then call me Mae."

"Delighted. Did you enjoy your first day and night on Risa?"

"Yeah. Stephanie and I went sailing. It was gorgeous."

Kyrin glanced around. "Is she joining you today?"

"Shehad other plans," Mae answered and quickly changed the subject. "So, are you taking one of the tours?" It seemed a safe assumption considering they were standing in the waiting zone for the sight-seeing transports.

"Yes. Liam and I thought it would be nice to see some of the Risan countryside before we have to go back to _Enterprise_. I understand there's a waterfall that makes Angel Falls look like a leaky kitchen sink."

"I read about that in the Vulcan database," answered Mae with enthusiasm. She held up a small camera. "I thought I'd check it out, too. Take some pictures to send home."

"Then you should join us!" suggested Kyrin. He looked around the sunny waiting area in mild annoyance. "Assuming we'll be an 'us' before the transport is ready to go."

"I'm sure he'll be here any second."

Douglas gave her a sardonic look. "You must not know Liam very well." It was said only half in jest. "The boy is always late for anything but a duty-shift."

"Well," joked Mae, "maybe you need to impress on him that some social functions are just as vital as a duty-shift."

"My dear, I've _tried_," he replied with over-exaggerated weariness. "Maybe when the results of the officers' exams come in he'll be able to focus a little better on _life_ as opposed to _duty_."

"You haven't heard yet?"

"No, and Liam was _so_ hoping to have the results before we arrived here. Starfleet isn't the hideous bureaucracy it could be, but neither is it the well-oiled machine they'd like us all to believe. Ah! _There_ he is!" He held up an arm and caught the attention of Crewman Liam Donnelly. Donnelly smiled and approached them as an announcement came over the tannoy.

"The next tour will be departing in three minutes," a pleasant female voice said. "Will passengers please board the yellow transport to the left of the waiting area? The tour will depart in three minutes. Thank you."

"You're late," Kyrin chided the new arrival.

Liam brushed an errant lock of black hair back from his face. "You know the story about the swan and the scorpion?" the Irishman said, humor flickering in his bright green eyes.

"I know, I know. It's in your nature." It was obviously an issue that had come up between them so often it was now a running joke. "Let's get aboard the transport before it leaves without us." He ushered the young man ahead of him to be certain he wouldn't be left behind. Douglas looked back at Lawless. "Are you coming?"

"If you don't mind a third wheel," she replie d uncertainly.

"Absolutely not," was the counselor's emphatic response. He and his companion had been very careful to keep their relationship platonic; the addition of a third party to their trip would help re-enforce the image to any observers. Neither man wanted any doubts about the nature of their friendship that might jeopardize either's position in Starfleet. Once both were officers, however _Look out, baby!_ thought Douglas with a smile.

The trio settled into seats, and it wasn't long before the transport was on its way.

*****

Normally a late-sleeper, Cormack was surprised to wake early. Sun streamed through the gauze curtains, dappling the covers with soft, diffused light. Looking around, she smiled. She was wrapped in a happy tangle of arms and legs. It took several moments to determine which were her own.

A low voice spoke to her left. "Good morning."

"Morning," she answered softly. She gazed at the man next to her. She would have mistaken him for human were it not for his telepathic abilities and eyes so dark she couldn't tell where the pupils left off and the irises began.

"Shall I order us breakfast?" he asked.

"Yes, please," answered Cormack. The night had left her satiated and hungry all at once.

Carefully, he untangled himself from flesh and bedclothes, and rose. Stephanie soaked in every centimeter of his lean, fit body before he pulled on a robe. 

While he went to make the call to room-service, Cormack rolled over onto her right side. She ran gentle fingers through the carnelian-colored hair of the woman still sleeping there, leaned in, and brushed a tender kiss against her lips. The Risan shifted a little, her eyes opening. They were a blue so deep Stephanie felt she could easily have drowned in them. 

"Good morning. Taaqat's ordering breakfast. Do want anything in particular?"

"Whatever he orders will be fine," the Risan woman said with a smile. "I had a lovely night."

"So did I." 

They exchanged another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate, reminiscent of the night's activities. Cormack could feel the tension building in her center, the heat and wetness there an almost instantaneous reaction to the touch of the Risan woman. Tongues explored lips and teeth, refreshing sense memory.

Stephanie reached out a hand and gently massaged the woman's soft breasts, alternating between them. The Risan responded in kind, and Cormack let out a soft moan, her already firm nipples tingling with sensation.

Finally, reluctantly, the two separated. "May I use your shower while we wait for breakfast?"

"Of course," answered Stephanie, slightly breathless. She stole one last kiss before letting the other woman go.

Cormack watched the svelte red-head sashay toward the en-suite, natural grace and sensuality explicit in her every move. She sighed and lay back against the pillows. "Life is good," she said. 

She took one more moment to relax and indulge in the memory of the night's most pleasant activities before forcing herself to throw back the covers and get up. It was the last morning of her shore leave, and she had to keep on some sort of schedule. She pulled on a pale green, lightweight robe and headed into the living area.

"Breakfast will be here shortly," Taaqat informed her in the deep, chocolatey voice Cormack had instantly adored. "I hope there wasn't anything special you ladies wanted?" 

Stephanie sidled up to him. "Derzhava said anything would do." She slipped one hand inside his robe that gapped open so invitingly, showing his broad, muscular chest. Her fingers raked gently though the light covering of hair she found there. "And I left orders with the room-service staff that no matter what else was ordered, they were to send up coffee with it." 

Unconsciously, Taaqat leaned into her caress. "Coffee?" He gave her a puzzled look as he rolled the alien word around on his tongue.

"Well, the local equivalent." Cormack's hand slid around his back and down to his firm buttocks as her other hand loosened the tie on the robe. "It's a beverage from Earth. Bitter, acidic, mildly toxic, and delicious." She nipped at his chest playfully, lips and tongue enjoying the sensuousness of his skin.

"Your description seems unlikely, but I'll take your word for it." He smiled. 

The Risan woman, Derzhava, emerged from the en-suite and stood in the arched opening between bedroom and living room. She had wrapped her silken hair in a towel and her lithe body in a yet another robe—this one a blue that perfectly complemented her eyes.

She looked at them, a coy smile playing on her soft lips. "Is this the appetizer?" she asked.

Stephanie glanced back and forth between her companions. "We've got some time before breakfast arrives" She was rewarded with smiles from Taaqat and Derzhava alike.

_Yep,_ Cormack thought, _life is so very, very good._

*****

"I'll catch you later," said Cormack to Lawless. They were standing on the deck of _Enterprise_'s landing bay, having just returned from Risa. As Stephanie had disembarked from the shuttlepod, her eye had caught something that took her very much by surprise.

"Meet you for dinner?" suggested Lawless.

"Sounds good," was Cormack's slightly distracted reply.

Mae shifted the strap of her overnight bag on her shoulder and headed toward the door.

Most everyone else in the landing bay was trying to look elsewhere, but Cormack wanted to know what was up. She strolled casually toward Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker. The men were clearly trying to make a discrete exit. Cormack had never been much for discretion—at least not when her curiosity was piqued.

"Everything all right, sir?" she asked her C.O. It wasn't every day he appeared in nothing but his blues and a robe in public. Tucker was in a similar state, and She took a subtle sniff of the air. they stank. She couldn't help but wonder just what had brought them to this ignominious condition.

"Fine," Reed replied. Tucker wouldn't look at her. "Excuse us, Ensign." They'd been working hard to retain what little dignity was left to them after their unfortunate encounter on Risa. Now, they gathered the modicum that was left and made a swift exit.

_Wonder what the story is behind that?_ Stephanie thought. She shrugged. She'd find out later when she could get Malcolm alone. Clearly it was something he wouldn't readily share with a crowd.

*****

Finally he was clean. Tucker sighed.

Reed looked at him from where he sat on the foot of the commander's bunk. "Better?" he asked although he knew the answer. Malcolm, too, was feeling much improved after a shower and change of clothes—even if those clothes were just his standard Starfleet coveralls. "Ready to get some dinner?"

"Am I," said Trip emphatically. Their misadventure had left them tied up for nearly 24 hours, and he was starving. They left the cabin and headed toward the mess hall.

Over large plates of steak and potatoes, Trip finally worked up the nerve to ask quietly. "You're not going to tell anyone about what happened, are you?"

Malcolm was surprised. "Of course not!" he exclaimed sotto voce. "Getting mugged, stripped, and tied up are not exactly events that will improve our reputations. How would that look? The Armory Officer and Chief Engineer of Starfleet's top ship getting taken like that?"

"I suppose it wouldn't help if we claimed to be drunk at the time."

"We _were_ drunk at the time." They both clammed up as two crewmen passed on their way to another table. Malcolm shook his head. "It was stupid. We should have been more careful."

"We needed to let off some steam," argued Trip, although he was uncertain whether he was trying to convince himself or his partner. "Besides, it's over and done. I say we just forget it ever happened. As long as we're agreed we're not going to tell anybody, no one else ever has to know." He eyed Malcolm carefully. "We _are_ agreed, right?"

"Of course! Who on Earth would I tell?"

It wasn't anyone on Earth that had Tucker concerned. "Okay."

Reed stopped eating and looked at him. "What?" He'd caught a note in the engineer's voice that he couldn't quite place.

"What 'what'?"

"You soundedunconvinced."

"No. You said you won't tell. You're a man of your word." Trip knew it was true, and he fought to keep his own worries from obstructing his good sense.

"I am." 

There was a silence as they continued eating. Malcolm was thinking hard, trying to figure out what was bothering his lover. It was obvious he was upset about something; Trip was too ingenuous to hide his feelings well. Reed only wished he could determine what it was, as it was clear the engineer wasn't going to tell him on his own.

For his part, Trip was brooding. It wasn't a natural state for him and he found it unpleasant. Unfortunately, he also found it unavoidable. He was remembering a few short hours ago when they had returned from Risa. Everyone else had been polite enough to ignore the fact that he and Malcolm were in an unusual state of undress. Even in the shuttlepod the Captain and Hoshi had managed to talk around it—despite Porthos's interest in their exciting new smell. In fact, now that he thought back on it, he began to wonder if he and Malcolm weren't the only ones hiding something. He'd been too preoccupied with his own situation at the time to notice.

"Do you think something weird happened down on Risa?" he said suddenly.

Malcolm looked at him. "You mean aside from our own bit of excitement?" he asked dryly.

"I mean to the Captain. Didn't he seem a littleodd on the trip back?"

Reed had noticed an unusual expression on the captain's face at one point, but he'd ascribed it to his attempt to ignore the stink coming off his two officers. Malcolm said as much to Trip.

"Maybe," the engineer agreed. He didn't believe it, but he didn't have another explanation ready. Then it struck him. "You think maybe he hooked up with somebody?"

"What? You mean some Risan beauty swept him off his feet for the weekend? I doubt it. You know him better than I, but I didn't think he was the sortyou know?"

Trip had to admit Malcolm was right. "Yeah. I wonder what was up, though."

"Don't ask," advised Reed. "He may just ask you in return."

"Good point." That brought Trip's thoughts back to a place he didn't want to go, so he changed the subject. "Looking forward to getting back to work in the morning?"

"Absolutely!"

*****

Stephanie used her evening to catch up on the news from home. There was a letter from her sister, Ryn, complete with pictures of her nephew's fourth birthday. The still images made her at once both sanguine and melancholy. She missed her family. There was Kevin blowing out the candles on his cake. The next picture showed him and several other children playing a game the purpose of which she couldn't even begin guess. A third was a candid shot of Gemma and the very pregnant Ryn sitting together on the sofa, smiling and laughing. Stephanie would have bet a month's pay they hadn't a clue their picture was being taken.

_Must have been Mom,_ thought Stephanie. _She's the only one brave and crazy enough to take Ryn's picture without permission._ She chuckled as she imagined the aftermath when her sister realized what had happened.

The last picture was a family portrait of sorts. There was her mother looking not a day older than she had for the past ten years. There was Ryn actually smiling for the picture. Gemma stood next to Ryn, smiling easily, one arm wrapped lovingly around her wife. Standing in front of them all was Kevin, now four years old and trying to look very grown up. His attempt was foiled by the chocolate frosting daubing his face, but it was good effort nevertheless.

Stephanie smiled, fighting back tears. "What's your problem, Cormack?" she snapped at herself. "They're just pictures."

Of course, that was the problem—they were just pictures. She angrily wiped a tear from her cheek and finished reading the letter from her sister.

The door slid open, startling her.

"Hey," said Liz. She gave her bunkmate a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Stephanie sniffed and blinked quickly to stem the flow of more tears. "I'm good. How's Travis?"

"Much better." The relief was clear in the exobiologist's voice and face.

"So what happened, exactly?" Cormack wanted to know. She'd only heard a passing report that Mayweather had broken his leg while rock-climbing and been brought back to _Enterprise_. 

"He had an allergic reaction to the painkiller the Risan doctors gave him. Luckily, Phlox figured out what it was and was able to treat it." Cutler sat on her bunk.

"Wait a minute. I thought the doc was hibernating."

"He was and is. Sub-commander T'Pol and I had to wake him up." Seeing Cormack's inquisitive expression, she held up a hand. "Don't ask."

"Okay." Stephanie shrugged.

"How about you? How was shore leave?" Liz had drawn one of the short straws in the lottery. Only half the crew had gotten to take shore leave; she had been among those stuck on the ship. In truth, she hadn't minded. It was quiet on board, and while the last time she'd visited an alien planet had been fine, her first experience hadn't been a positive one. "Did you do everything you wanted to?"

Cormack couldn't help but grin, glancing at the Horga'han now sitting on the shelf over her bunk. "Oh yeah."

*****

"Something wrong, Trip?" Archer looked at his Chief Engineer over the breakfast table. "You're kind of quiet this morning."

"Just thinking," said Tucker.

"You want to talk about it?" He salted his eggs lightly and took a bite. He had his own concerns at the moment, but he'd spent the past twenty-four hours hashing through them to no avail. Jon welcomed the opportunity to help his friend—perhaps this would be a problem he could solve.

Trip considered the offer. He could certainly use some advice. He'd feel stupid taking something so petty to the ship's counselor—maybe a friendly ear was all he really needed. "It's nothing. I'm just having a problem with one of the crewmembers."

Archer was surprised. In his experience, he'd found his congenial engineer could get along with just about anybody. "Is it T'Pol?"

"No." The Vulcan science officer wasn't Trip's favorite person, but they'd begun to come to something of an understanding over the ten months of _Enterprise_'s mission. "No, it's not." There was a pause as the engineer tried to put his problem into words. "You everget jealous?" he asked. It felt good to have someone to talk to, even if he didn't really know what he wanted to say.

"Sure. I wouldn't be human if I didn't." Archer took a sip of his orange juice, used the moment to surreptitiously observe his old friend. He didn't know where the conversation was going, but he was more than willing to follow it through to its conclusion. Tucker would get there when he was ready.

"Even if you knew it was stupid? I mean, even if there was no reason, but you just couldn't help it?"

"Absolutely. That's the way it usually is with jealousy—at least in my experience."

Tucker contemplated this. The only noise in the room was the constant hum of the ship and the clink of silverware on plates. "So you think I should just let it go. Right? There's no reason for it, so I should just get over it."

"Get over what, Trip?" When the engineer didn't reply, Archer asked, "Is something wrong between you and Malcolm?"

"No! No, sir." Trip was honestly surprised by the suggestion.

It had been a guess on Archer's part, and he was glad to find he was wrong. He liked the steadying influence Reed seemed to have over the excitable engineer. In return, Trip had brought Malcolm out of his shell a bit. It was a good thing to see from either side. "Then what's eating you?" he asked.

Trip shook his head. "Nothing."

"Trip"

Tucker's shoulders slumped. "Never could get a lie past you," he said.

"No? How often have you tried?" 

The joke had the desired effect, and Trip chuckled. Archer smiled in return.

"It's Ensign Cormack," Tucker said finally.

"Ensign Cormack?" Archer was surprised. "What's going on? I haven't seen anything on her report."

"No, you wouldn't. She's a good officer and, from what I've seen and Malcolm's told me, she's damn good at her job."

"So what's the problem?"

"I don't like her."

"You're not required to like everyone, Trip."

"You don't understand, sir. She's pretty much Malcolm's best friend." He felt petty and stupid, but he had to say it. "_That's_ why I don't like her."

Archer understood. "You're jealous of the time they spend together."

"Partly. I want to know what she knows about him, and I want to know about the secrets they have."

"What makes you think they have secrets?"

"Best friends always do!"

The captain thought about that. He had to admit he agreed. There were things Trip knew about him that he'd never told another soul, and he believed it was the same with the engineer.

"Besides," continued Trip, "there was something she said the other week." He was remembering the brief conversation he and Cormack had had after the rescue of Archer and Mayweather from the Tandaran detention complex. They'd run into one another on the way to sickbay to check up on Malcolm.

_"You know, we're probably going to be in the doc's way."_

"Probably," agreed Cormack amiably. "But I'm used getting on Doctor Phlox's nerves."

"Oh?" In spite of himself, Trip was curious.

"Oh yeah. Malcolm hasn't told you about it? I'm not the most patient of patients, I'm afraid."

Before he could question her further—specifically on why "Malcolm" would know anything about it—they arrived.

"What did she say?" Archer was asking.

Trip glanced up, pulled from the memory. "Huh? Oh. Nothing specific, it was just the way she said it."

"Have you talked to Malcolm about it?"

He knew what Archer was going to say even before answering the captain's question. "No," Tucker admitted.

"You might want to do something about that." There was a tone of gentle reproof in his voice; it was exactly what Trip had expected.

"I know. I'll talk to him tonight."

*****

Stephanie was disappointed. Malcolm staunchly refused to impart any information beyond the vaguest of explanations. She'd tried broaching the subject casually, but he'd remained deliberately obtuse. Finally, she was forced to ask him outright.

"It was a misunderstanding," he told her.

"Some misunderstanding," she replied.

"Quite."

Silence.

"That's it?"

"That's it," echoed Reed with finality.

"Come on! I'm dying of curiosity!"

"You might want to see Doctor Phlox in that case. Perhaps he can prescribe something for you."

Reed was walking quickly and the shorter Cormack had to pick up the pace to keep up. They both knew she'd have to drop the subject once they reached the Armory, with or without getting satisfaction.

The blonde woman tried one more tactic. "I'll tell you what _I_ did on my shore leave," she offered. She didn't really want to tell him, but it seemed only fair to offer something in exchange.

Malcolm shot her a sly glance over his shoulder. He didn't slow down. "I can guess what you did," he said. "I saw that statue you brought back when we were standing in the landing bay. It was poking out of your bag."

He was right. Not knowing how big it would be, she hadn't budgeted enough room in her overnight bag for it. As a result, she'd had to tuck it in as best she could and zip the bag up to the statue's neck.

"It was a Horga'han, wasn't it?" Reed continued. "I read about them in the Vulcan database."

"Oh."

"And frankly, I'm not interested in the details." He was teasing her and it was fun. It wasn't often he had the opportunity to yank his friend's chain like this, so he was milking it. He was mildly disappointed when Cormack didn't even blush.

"Too bad," she said with a suggestive smile. "It was a lot of fun." She might not be able to get what she wanted, but she was damned if she was going to lose this round of teasing, too. "The red-head wasn't your type, but you'd have liked the brunette." She flashed him a wicked grin and entered the Armory. 

*****

The ready room door chimed. "Come in," called Archer. He was catching up on what had happened in the two days he'd spent on Risa and was pleased for the interruption.

Ensign Sato entered and the door shut behind her. "Transmission from Starfleet, sir," she said holding out a data card. "It's the results of the officers' exams."

"How'd we do?" he asked taking the card. There had been two _Enterprise_ crewmen hoping to pass these exams and make ensign.

"I don't know, sir. I didn't think it would be right to look."

Archer nodded. She was right, of course. It was good to know he had a comm officer with such integrity she wouldn't even peek at exam results. "Thanks, Hoshi. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," Sato said and left.

The Captain held the card between finger and thumb, turning it on two corners. He hoped both crewmen had passed; he hated to bring disappointing news to members of his crew.

Archer took the card and slipped it into his computer.

*****

Doctor Douglas looked up from his computer at the sound of the chime, a puzzled expression on his round face. He wasn't expecting another appointment that afternoon. "Come in," he called.

Liam Donnelly entered and let the door slide shut behind him. His expression was very serious, and he held a data card in one hand.

Kyrin looked back and forth from Liam's face to the card. "Is that?" he asked. 

The crewman nodded. "Results," he confirmed.

"You've seen them?" He found he was as nervous now as Donnelly had been immediately before taking the officers' exams.

Another nod.

Douglas's face fell. "You didn't" He couldn't complete the sentence. Liam had had such high hopes. He'd studied hard, and everything Kyrin had heard suggested he was bound to make ensign. The idea that he'd failed was heartbreaking but, considering the crewman's dour expression, unavoidable.

Liam couldn't stand it any more. A grin split his face, and his green eyes positively danced with glee. "No, I haven't. Haven't _failed_, that is. You're looking at the newest officer aboard the starship _Enterprise_," he said proudly.

Kyrin leapt to his feet and was around the desk in an instant. He let out a whoop of joy and grabbed the new ensign, holding him a bear-hug. Liam was laughing as he returned the embrace.

"This calls for a celebration," the psychiatrist declared.

"I can think how to begin." Donnelly extricated himself from the embrace just long enough to lock the door to the small office. "You're not expecting anyone, I hope?"

"No."

"That's good news. I've been wanting to do this for months." Liam took Kyrin in his arms and kissed him soundly.

*****

Trip did not, in fact, talk to Malcolm that evening. The lieutenant was working late in the Armory. Tucker considered doing the same in Engineering—there were certainly enough reports to keep him busy for several hours—but he decided against it. Instead, he followed one of Reed's habits and went to the gym. He was hoping a bit of exercise would help him blow off some steam. 

The gym was empty when he arrived, and he was glad for the solitude. Tossing his towel aside he released a pair of hand weights from their secured spots in the weight rack and began a warm-up set of biceps curls. Tucker found the steady repetition of weight training calmed his mind—and his mind certainly needed calming lately. Between the recent events on Risa and his growing dislike of Ensign Cormack he was having a tough time concentrating.

_Wonder if she's working late, too?_ he wondered suspiciously. It was a thought unworthy of him, and he was angry with himself for thinking it. _What the hell's wrong with you? She's never done anything to get you so wound up. She's gone out of her way to help you and Malcolm._ That was the problem, though. Was she helping them out of an honest desire to assist a friend, or was there an ulterior motive underneath?

He set down the free-weights angrily, letting them clang loudly on the metal rack. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin as someone spoke.

"You okay, Commander?" The inquiry was sincere, the tone of voice clearly concerned. It didn't make Tucker feel any better about the intrusion.

He turned around to see Ensign Cormack looking at him from across the room. She was on her knees, having just rolled out her yoga mat on the bare gym floor.

"Fine," he snapped.

Cormack started slightly at his unusually sharp tone. She shrugged it off, putting it down to his having been startled from his thoughts. "Okay." She stood and moved to one end of the mat, began loosening up tight muscles.

Trip watched her for a moment. Then, being the kind of person who really preferred getting along with people, he tried to think of something pleasant to say. "Not working late?" was all he could come up with.

"Nope," answered Cormack. She hung down from her waist, allowing her hands and wrists to dangle against the floor. "The lieutenant doesn't need my help to go over status reports, happily." She rolled up to full height and reached both arms toward the ceiling.

"Right." There was a pause Tucker found awkward; Cormack didn't even notice. "I'llstop bugging you then. So you can get on with your workout."

"No worries, sir," said Cormack good-naturedly. She leaned over again, placing her hands flat on the mat and jumping her feet gracefully back into the plank asana.

Not knowing what else to say and deciding anything he could think of just then would be better left unsaid, Trip returned to his own workout. Unfortunately, he found it even more difficult to concentrate now that he had company. He regarded Stephanie surreptitiously as she moved smoothly from one pose to the next, lithe, graceful, strong

_Snap out of it!_ his mind ordered suddenly. _That has nothing to do with why Malcolm likes her. They're _friends_. That's all._

He believed this was absolutely true—from Malcolm's stand point. But he still wondered about Stephanie, and no matter how hard he tried to fight it there was a kernel of distrust in him for the female ensign. With a resigned sigh, he turned his back on her and traded his hand weights for one of the long bars.

He set the weight to the level he wanted and lay back on the bench. It was dumb to do bench presses without a spotter, but Trip didn't care. He'd come here hoping to be alone; he certainly wasn't going to ask for Cormack's assistance.

That didn't stop Cormack offering, however. From her contorted position, she spotted Tucker out of the corner of her eye. "D'you want me to spot you, sir?" she asked, carefully unfolding herself.

"Nope," grunted Trip.

"It's no trouble," she tried again. _If he squishes himself when I could have prevented it, Malcolm's gonna kick my ass,_ she thought. It didn't phase her that the bar he was lifting probably weighed nearly as much as she did; she still believed she could help.

"No thanks," was the engineer's strained reply.

Cormack shrugged, although she knew he couldn't see her from his angle. She couldn't force him to accept her help. "Okay. I'm here if you change your mind." When she got no reply, she shook her head and returned to her own workout. But she kept one eye on the commander for a while, just to be on the safe side.

As long as he kept moving, Trip felt better. He was focused on the weights, the strain in his muscles, the sweat of his palms on the metal bar. But as soon as he stopped, his mind was right back where it had been all evening. He heaved the bar back into its rests with a grunt of equal parts exertion and frustration.

_Forget it,_ he thought angrily. He rose and grabbed his towel, wiping sweat first from himself then from the bench. He set the weight bar back to neutral before locking it down.

In the twisting triangle asana with her eyes closed, Cormack never even noticed him leave.

*****

End Log 25  
_(Completed 28 May 02)_

Continued in Log 26


	26. Log 26

**Log Rhythms**  
by DNash

**Standard Disclaimer** – Please see **Log 1**.

*****

**Log 26**: (Takes place following _Log 25_ and immediately preceding _Shockwave_.)

*****

Archer took one last look at the data on the computer screen. The Paraagans were an interesting culture. In some ways they reminded him of the early pioneers of North America, striking out to find what resources nature could provide them. In other ways, he found their matriarchal civilization completely alien.

_What did you expect, Jon?_ he chided himself. _They are _aliens_ after all._ He chuckled at his own xenocentricity and closed the file.

"Come on, Porthos," he said. "Time to sleep."

The beagle gave a small bark, not moving from where he stood on his dog-bed, and looked at his master doubtfully.

"No, really. I mean it this time. I'm done studying for tonight." The captain pulled back the bedclothes and was about to climb under them when a question occurred to him. He returned to the desk and reopened the file on the Paraagans. 

Again, Porthos barked.

Archer glanced at the dog over one shoulder. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered.

*****

Trip rolled over and looked at the chronometer. 0056 read the luminous green numbers. He sighed in frustration and punched his pillow, hoping to make it more comfortable. He was suffering from yet another bout of insomnia, and this time he knew the magnetic constrictors had nothing to do with it.

_What's your damn problem, Trip?_ his mind snapped irritably. _Can't sleep without your security officer?_

Oh yeah, he thought back at himself. _That's real funny._ But once his annoyance had passed it occurred to him that might just be the problem.

His mind had been on _Enterprise_'s Tactical Officer most of the evening. During dinner with Archer and Phlox, Tucker had been distracted enough for both men to notice and comment. He'd brushed off their friendly inquiries with lies about technical issues cluttering up his thoughts. It had been clear Archer knew he wasn't telling the truth, but the engineer had managed to escape after the meal without being questioned further.

Now he was lying in his bunk, mind racing, unable to sleep. There was an option—two, even. He could go to sickbay for a sedative, or he could contact Malcolm. The second option was certainly the more appealing, but he hesitated to follow it through. Half a dozen excuses why he shouldn't call him scrolled through his thoughts. All of them were pushed aside.

"Couldn't hurt to see where he is, at least," Trip mused aloud, pushing back the covers. Reed had told him he and Cormack would be working late on the phase-cannons. If they were still there, maybe he'd go see if they could use a hand.

_Right, Trip. Just keep telling yourself that._

Ignoring the jealous little voice in his head, he input a request for Malcolm's current location into the computer. His shoulders grew tense when he saw the results. "The mess hall?" he muttered. Taking only a moment to tell himself he shouldn't continue, he input another search. In seconds, his suspicion was confirmed.

_Great. You have the information. Now what are you going to do with it?_ He sat on the edge of his bunk, thinking.

_They're friends. They're probably just relaxing. They've been working all evening, after all,_ the sensible part of his mind said.

_He could be relaxing with me,_ answered the little green monster petulantly.

_He probably figures you're asleep—like you _should_ be. Like any _reasonable_ person _would_ be._

Well, maybe I'm not feeling real reasonable right now.

All the more reason to stop what you're doing and go to sleep.

That's the point. I can't_ sleep._

With that, he'd made up his mind. He pulled on a robe over his bare chest and pajama bottoms and stepped into the corridor.

The mess hall wasn't exactly between his quarters and sickbay, but it wasn't exactly out of his way, either. He would take the slightly more circuitous route, and if he ran into anyone on the way, so be it.

*****

"That was wonderful," murmured Liz happily. She curled herself around her lover and rested her cheek on his warm, strong chest. After the scare they'd had at Risa, it felt especially good to hold him, reassure herself that he was here safe and well.

Travis turned his head enough to kiss her forehead. "You're beautiful. Do you know that?"

"Only when I'm with you."

"Uh-uh. You're always beautiful."

Liz smiled, settling deeper into the embrace. "Thank you."

*****

Stephanie burst out laughing. "Oh my gods! You should _not_ do that while I'm drinking!"

"I'm sorry," said Malcolm unrepentantly and grinned.

"I mean, shit! Did you _want_ to see tonic water come spurting out my nose? Because that's damn near what happened."

They were alone in the mess hall. It was nearly 0100 hours; all the sensible crewmembers were on duty or asleep. Reed and Cormack had been working late on the phase-cannons. _Enterprise_ was unable to fire the weapons while at warp; particle discharge would destabilize the warp field. After several weeks of calculations and simulations, they thought they had the problem solved—all it needed was field testing. Unfortunately, if it turned out they were wrong, the field tests would blow out the nacelles. But that was a hurdle for another day. Now they were winding down before turning in.

Her laughter calming, Cormack sighed. "I should go to bed. I'm wiped."

"Me, too," Malcolm agreed. He drained the last of his Guinness. "Good work today."

"Thanks." Stephanie smiled. She took pride in her work; it felt good to have it recognized by her C.O.

She took a final sip of tonic, crunched one last ice cube, and stood. "Coming?"

"Yeah." Reed rose, too, and picked up their empty glasses.

"I'd've got them," protested Cormack as the lieutenant deposited them in tub set out for just such late-night meetings.

"No problem."

"Good night," said Stephanie as they parted ways at the mess hall door. "See you in a few," she added jokingly.

"Good night," Malcolm replied with a wry smile at her too-true jest. They went their opposite ways, neither meeting anyone in the quiet corridors.

*****

Hoshi awoke with a start and looked around. Thinking perhaps she'd overslept her alarm, she glanced at the chronometer. 0103, it read. 

_That's not it,_ she thought.

She was sure it was some sound that had wakened her, but nothing stirred in the dark cabin. Closing her eyes again, she strained to hear something, anything, which might be different from the usual nighttime sounds of the ship. 

There was nothing. Sato opened her eyes once more, peering into the darkness, reassuring herself everything was as it should be. She shook her head in puzzlement before rolling over and falling back into an uneasy sleep.

*****

Mae knew she was dreaming. That was the first strange thing.

She was dreaming about cheese. That was the second strange thing.

The cheese began to sing to her in Arabic. That was when she forced herself to wake up.

_That's it,_ she thought, rolling over and readjusting her pillow. _No more frosted animal cookies and chunky salsa right before bed-time._

*****

"We should get some sleep. It's very late."

"So? You don't have an early duty shift tomorrow, do you?"

"No." Ensign Liam Donnelly shook his head, sending dark locks flopping into his eyes. He reached up to push them back, but was beaten to it by the hand of his lover. "But you have appointments first thing," the young man continued only half-heartedly. He was busy enjoying the attention of the fingers that ran first through his hair and then teasingly down the back of his neck.

Kyrin leaned in, using that same hand to pull his head closer into a deep, warm kiss. When they finally parted, the psychiatrist sighed. "I suppose you're right. Sometimes I really hate being so responsible."

Liam nodded. "That's the truth." He reached out and turned off the small bedside lamp. Settling back into the bunk, he looked up at the small port in the exterior bulkhead. "You're lucky you've got a window. I love to just lie here looking out at the stars."

"Don't tell me you only want me for my cabin," teased Kyrin.

"Nah," replied Donnelly, the grin on his face echoed in his tone. "But it's in my top 10."

Douglas laughed and kissed his lover again.

*****

Cormack cursed the alarm incoherently. "It's too bloody early," she mumbled to the empty cabin.

_Empty?_ She looked around. A small smile appeared on her bleary-eyed face. _Liz didn't come home again last night. You go, girl._

She stumbled to the lav and washed her face with the peppermint soap she saved for particularly challenging mornings. Then, not able to face the complexity of a french braid, she opted instead for a simple plait down the back. Next, she brushed her teeth and dressed. Despite all her efforts, she was still rubbing sleep from her eyes when she entered the mess hall.

"Ugh," she grunted, wincing in the brightness of artificial morning light. "Long time no see." Stephanie collected her usual morning beverage and a banana nut muffin. A slow squint around the room located her friend Lawless, and she made her way to the engineer's table.

"Morning," said Mae.

"Ugh," repeated Cormack.

"Late night?"

"Uh-huh." She sipped her latté with the passion of a desperate soul at a desert oasis. "On the up side," she said after consuming enough caffeine to formulate coherent thought, "we should be able to fire the phase-cannons without dropping to impulse now."

"Then it was worth it."

Cormack considered. "Maybe."

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Mae asked.

"A few hours, but not half enough. Guess I got spoiled on shore leave." _In more ways than one,_ her mind added lasciviously.

"What?"

"Huh?" Cormack was pulled abruptly from the pleasant memory.

"You're smiling. You never smile before coffee."

"Shore leave," said Stephanie, smiling even more licentiously.

"Don't say anything," Mae ordered abruptly. "I do _not_ want to know." In truth, a corner of her mind was very curious just what her friend had gotten up to on Risa; she simply didn't think she could live with the image of it should she find out. 

The dark-haired engineer finished her own cup of coffee and said, "Well, I hate to rush off, but I want to get to Engineering a little early today."

"How come? Working on a project or something?"

"Yeah. The project is not pissing off Commander Tucker."

"Huh? I can't even imagine him getting pissed off."

"Come visit Main Engineering." Mae shook her head. "I don't know what his deal is, but I hope he's through it soon. He's on a seriously short fuse."

"That doesn't sound like him at all," commented Cormack.

"Tell me about it. I gotta go." Lawless rose. "See you later."

"Yeah. Good luck."

"Thanks," replied Mae with an expression that said she expected to need it.

Left alone at the table, Stephanie munched her muffin in pensive silence. _Wonder what's up with the commander,_ she puzzled. He'd seemed perfectly normal the other night when she'd run into him in the gym. At least, she thought he had. Now she looked back on it, hadn't he been quieter than usual? _That's just stupid,_ she told herself. _ Of course he wasn't chatty; he was lifting weights._ She shook her head. It was too much for her sleep-deprived brain to contemplate so early in the morning.

"Morning!"

Cormack started, almost choking on her latté.

"Sorry!" Liz slid into the seat so recently vacated by Lawless. "You okay?"

"Yeah," coughed Stephanie. "Yeah. You shouldn't sneak up on a body like that." Then she smiled, remembering the empty bunk across from her own that morning. "Good night?"

Liz flushed slightly. "Yes, thank you," she answered.

"So where's the boy-toy?"

"Stephanie!"

"Sorry. You know I only say that 'cause I know it bugs you."

"I know. What are friends for, right?"

Cormack grinned. "Right." 

There was a pause while both women ate their breakfasts. Cormack broke it. "So, you're saying Travis has fully recovered from his injuries," she said playfully.

"Stephanie!"

The blonde woman laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

*****

The door chimed. Trip blinked into wakefulness, squinted at the chronometer. "Damn," he muttered.

Again, the door chimed. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, climbing from his bunk. "Who is it?" he called out.

"It's Malcolm," came the reply.

Trip opened the door to discover his lover looking at him, a curious expression on his face.

"Were you expecting someone else at this hour?" the lieutenant inquired teasingly.

"No, no. C'mon in." The commander stepped back, allowing Reed to enter. 

The door slid shut behind him, and Malcolm took a seat at the foot of Tucker's bed. "You look like hell," he commented. "Did you sleep all right?"

"Thanks and no," said Trip flatly. He stepped into the lav and shut the door.

Out of habit, Reed rose and straightened out the blankets on the bunk. He had just about decided to make the bed properly when Trip emerged from the lav.

"Leave it," the engineer said. He moved to the closet and pulled out fresh blues and a clean uniform. He pulled off his pajama-bottoms and began to dress.

Malcolm smiled libidinously. "Don't rush into that uniform on my account." Trip said nothing and continued dressing. Reed frowned. He didn't expect to be taken up on his suggestion, but it was unlike his partner not to at least comment, joke, something. "Is everything okay?"

"I told you. I didn't sleep well. I got something from sickbay around 0100 last night, but that didn't make the morning come any later."

"You should have called me. I was up. I could have helped you pass the time." He smiled again, took a step toward his half-clothed lover. Trip stepped away, causing Malcolm to pause. "What's wrong?" the lieutenant asked. "Besides your disrupted sleeping habits," he added quickly before Tucker could use that excuse again.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." Trip pulled on his uniform and sat to put on socks and boots.

"But—"

"I said I don't want to discuss it. Okay?"

It wasn't even remotely okay, but Malcolm nodded. "Okay," he echoed. "Do you still want to get some breakfast?"

"I can't." Trip stood. "I forgot I'm supposed to be meeting with the Captain and T'Pol this morning. About the Paraagans," he added in explanation. He deliberately avoided meeting Malcolm's gaze, certain he couldn't maintain his façade of calm in the face of concerned blue eyes. He didn't lose his temper often; he didn't want to lose it now. 

_If not now, when?_ he demanded of himself. _Talk to the man, for crying out loud. _

Later. I'll talk to him later, once I've had time to chill out.

How long will that_ be? You're supposed to be going on an away mission together. Do you really think waiting until _afterwards _is a good idea?_

"Walk with me as far as the mess hall?" asked Reed. He hadn't a clue what was bothering Trip, but that didn't stop him wanting to be near the engineer. Even a distracted Tucker was better than being alone.

Trip shrugged. "Sure."

The two walked in silence toward the mess hall. Entering it, they met Ensign Cormack. She was ordering up another double latté. "Morning, sirs," she said with a smile.

"Good morning," replied Reed. 

Trip just nodded hello and glanced back at Malcolm. "Catch you later." He didn't wait for a reply as he headed back out and down the corridor toward the captain's private dining room.

Reed watched him go, perplexed and concerned.

Cormack noted the expression and Tucker's abrupt departure. "Everything okay?" she asked, collecting her drink.

"I don't think so, no," was the lieutenant's distracted reply.

"Can I help?"

This time Reed looked at her as he answered, his tone and expression troubled. "No thanks." He didn't know what was bothering his lover. He saw no point in hashing through his lack of information with a third party, even with as close a friend as Stephanie. He picked up an empty mug and placed it under the dispenser. "Zariphean tea, hot."

Cormack recognized her C.O.'s reticence and let the matter drop. He'd let her know if he felt the need to talk. "I'm telling you, if you want quality with your caffeine, you need to start drinking coffee," she said lightly.

Malcolm gave a derisive chuckle, happy for the distraction. "You and your coffee. Any civilized person knows tea is the appropriate morning beverage." It was an old argument they both enjoyed. The familiar, friendly ribbing was just what Reed needed to lighten his subdued mood.

"Looking forward to the mission today?"

"Yes. It should be quite interesting. I'm familiar with matriarchal societies from when my family first lived in Malaysia. I'm curious to see what this one is like in comparison."

"Why, Lieutenant, I had no idea you were anthropologically inclined."

Reed shook his head. "Hardly." 

They moved to the buffet where the morning's breakfast offerings were laid out. Stephanie grabbed another muffin. "I'm totally hungry this morning," she commented.

"We were both up late working hard." Malcolm chose a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

"Join me and Liz? We're over by the windows." She nodded in the direction of the table.

"No thanks. I have some studying to do before the mission. I think I'll just claim a spot in a quiet corner."

"Okay. See you later."

They parted ways, and Cormack rejoined her bunkmate. 

"Isn't Lieutenant Reed going to join us?" Cutler asked. She'd observed her friend's interaction with the Tactical Officer and assumed he'd be joining them.

"Nah. He's reading up on the Paraagans, I think." She glanced across the room to where Reed sat. He took a sip of his tea and pulled a datapad from one pocket.

It was less than five minutes later when a page came over the comm. It was Captain Archer.

"Lieutenant Reed, report to the Launch Bay."

Reed took a last quick swallow of tea as he tucked his datapad back into a pocket. He hurried to the comm panel by the door to respond. "On my way, sir."

Neither he nor anyone aboard could have guessed what would happen next

*****

End Log 26  
_(Completed 5 July 02)_

Continued in _Shockwave_, _Enterprise_ Season 2, and _Log 2:1_  
And aren't we all just dying to know how the story is going to play out in the season opener! :-)


End file.
